


A day in the life of Ash Fox and Kristofferson Silverfox (FFoZ S1E3)

by J_Shute



Series: The Fantastic Foxes of Zootopia [6]
Category: Fantastic Mr. Fox, Watership Down - Richard Adams, Zootopia (2016), アグレッシブ烈子 | Aggressive Retsuko | Aggretsuko (Anime)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Slice of Life, Teen Angst, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-08-10 16:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20138632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Shute/pseuds/J_Shute
Summary: Part 3 of Fantastic Foxes of Zootopia (you can read it without part 1 and 2 of FFoZ), and the follow on to the Fantastic Mr Fox/ Zootopia crossover 'Different'.The Fantastic Mr Fox crew are living in the city where anyone can be anything and, with the return of Kris' father, things seem to be going well. Ash and Kris, after mending their relationship, are now friends who go to the same school, helping each other out where they can. Today should just be an ordinary school day but, though this fic will remain very slice of life, there's always the chance for drama, fun, hurt, comfort and a whole lot else to sneak in there too.See what it's like for two foxes going through the Zootopia public school system, particularly two as 'different' as this pair.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Hello A03! For old fans and those from Fan-fic, welcome back. For new fans… -What exactly is this?
> 
> Fantastic Foxes of Zootopia is a mega crossover series, primarily between Zootopia, Fantastic Mr Fox and Aggretsuko. It’s structured in an ‘episodic’ format, so individual small stories that make up a larger series. Over on Fanfiction it’s being released all in one go. On A03 though, due to the many different fandoms it can cover, each individual ‘episode’ is split up into its own fic and posted to the relevant archives. You thus need to follow the ‘Fantastic Foxes of Zootopia’ collection to get updates (or just follow on fanfic).
> 
> A day in the life of Ash Fox and Kristofferson Silverfox is the third episode in series one, and where I reintroduce the two families after first seeing them in the prequel ‘Different’. 
> 
> Now, reading ‘Different’ is absolutely essential to understanding this fic. Not read it, go back there and do so. 
> 
> You have read it, but not the previous two fics in series 1?
> 
> That’s okay at this stage. Episode 1 (Acting out) involved Nick having a slight personality crisis, and needing the help of his friends. Episode 2 (Elementary introductions) involved some new detectives of small stature but big impact investigating a reported nighthowler plant theft (which are things from Zootopia that do bad things).
> 
> This leads to this fic, where the two families (both living in Zootopia) are about to have a (slightly out of the) ordinary school day. This is a very slice of life fic, but should be packed full of great moments and funny bits. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> As a bonus, look out for two artworks. One by the talented Ziegelzieg, one by the less talented me.
> 
> Anyway, enough chit-chat. On with the show!

**A day in the life of Ash Fox and Kristofferson Silverfox.**

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**Chapter 1**

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…

The shrill cries of an alarm clock pierced through the dreamy mist, breaking through the layers of clouding sleep like a silver ray of sun piercing into a black cave, before it became a blinding light. It went on and on, ringing and ringing, until a russet paw smashed down onto it, silencing it for good.

Ash Fox looked at it, his fussed up face most definitely unimpressed, even as the clock tumbled off the side of his bunk and hit the floor.

His scowl increased as it screamed out again, forcing him to slip out under his warm covers and slide down the bed's ladder. Picking it up, he placed it on his desk, under where he’d been sleeping, and made sure that it was off.

It was.

Good.

With a giant vulpine yawn, his mouth gaping open and his tongue coiling up, the young fox got to work. With just his striped boxers keeping him modest, and a pair of sweat bands on his wrists, he was feeling a slight chill in the air, even as his already puffy fur puffed up some more. There was only one solution for it. He jumped up, grasping his duvet, and hauled it off his bed and right on top of him, before wrapping it over his shoulders like a thick cloak.

And then swapping the side that was facing him.

He’d got the cold side the first time around. It always annoyed him when that happened, but no use getting all hung up about it. Pausing, he glanced over to an old cassette Walkmammal on his desk. Sure, he had his phone, but he’d found the thing in a store and had an odd fondness for it. He grabbed it and clicked it on, the kick of the live recording playing out with a flourish of drums and guitar.

_ Monday Morning you sure look fine… _

He didn’t, but then again it wasn’t Monday morning.

_ Friday I got travelin’ on my mind… _

Walking forwards, he exited his room, stepping into a tight spiral staircase that linked the various floors of his house. All carved into an oak tree, he slept on the fourth of five floors, the one above him housing an empty guest room. Stepping down the stairs, his duvet dragging behind him, he passed the floor his parents slept on before taking an exit into the lounge. The room, varnished wood all around, was lit up harshly with the morning light. Still, it helped to wake him up a little. He was still rather groggy though; he’d rather be back in bed sleeping or relaxing, warm under his covers. He’d grown to savour that feeling of bliss more recently, taking it as one of the good things in life he could hold onto and enjoy, and it wasn’t like he could do it all the time, especially as catnip didn’t work on him. 

_ First you love me, and then you fade away… _

Still, it was a school day, so he had to go to school, even if he didn’t really feel like it.

_ I can’t go on believin’ this way… _

The front of the lounge opened up onto a mound of grassy earth that rose up to it, and at the back there was another storey still to go to ground level. There, through a door, was the family bathroom, right above the kitchen. After depositing his duvet outside the door, Ash sauntered into it. His mother was fine with him moving around with it like that, so long as he always put it back and made sure it didn’t get wet.

_ I got nothing but love for you… _

Inside the bathroom, he flinched slightly as his pads touched the cold tile floor. There was a toilet, a sink and a white bathtub, all linking to the exposed water pipes that ran up and down on one part of the wall. Ash hung his boxers up on one of the brackets that kept them all fixed together, before pausing.

_ Tell me what you really want to do? _

Holding back.

_ First you love me, then you get on down the line… _

Closing his eyes, pushing through the slight sense of nerves that filled him, he took off his sweatbands and hung them up too, before turning to the shower controls in the tub and turning them on.

_ But I don’t miiiind… I don’t miiiind, Yeah! _

His parents often used the little shower in their private bathroom, so there was hot water in the pipe, and it quickly came through. Stepping into the tub, making sure to set an egg timer to five minutes and a second to fifteen, he pointed his muzzle up into the hot stream, smiling as the water dripped through and down his face, percolating to the skin below.

_ I’ll be there if you want me to, _

_ No one else could ever do, _

_ Gotta get some peace in my mind… _

He was certainly getting some of that, and his smile widened as he started tapping out to the tune. Taking the shower head, pulling it off its rest, he quickly got to work getting his fur all wet, before shampooing it. Soap suds covered him, and he managed to get them off just as the first timer rang.

He smiled.

Ten minutes of ‘me time’.

Pointing his muzzle up, he let the hot stream run down it again, before opening his mouth and gargling, letting some of it flood in.

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* * *

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A few short beeps of an alarm rang out, before being quietly silenced by a silver-furred paw. Sheet off of him, Kris shook his head slightly to clear the last vestiges of sleep. He’d probably been awake for five minutes at this point, though he didn’t really know. It didn’t matter that much, so the silver fox paid it no mind or hindsight. Instead he got up, made his bed by putting the pillows and his light sheet back in place, before stepping out into his lounge, a fur brush in his paw. Turning left, he opened a sliding door and stood out on the balcony, looking over the district below.

His father, Dr William Silverfox, had, on emigrating to Zootopia after recovering from his illness, wanted a place that would help with his health. There were still bits of healing to do, and he was still weak in places, something that a frigid dry air might make worse. So, when looking for a place to live, he’d focussed on the Rainforest District. After talking with Kris, he’d also made sure to find a place within reasonable distance of his son’s new school. He’d already been torn from the school and classmates he’d known for much of his life, and his father wanted to prevent that from happening again. Thankfully, it was only a short rail trip and a bus transfer, little more than half an hour, to get to the school in Savannah Central where he went to from here.

Being at the edge of the Rainforest, with fantastic views over both the buffer area between the two Boroughs and of Downtown itself, alongside the great transport links to several major areas, the neighbourhood was very upmarket. If you weren’t picky about your location, fox-sized housing was generally pretty affordable. His father had been picky, but he could afford it comfortably.

Kris could enjoy it too.

His flat, built into the corner of a large concrete tower that was sculpted like a cliff and pockmarked with clinging trees and vegetation, had both the best views out to Savannah Central one way, and of one of the Rainforest’s major commercial areas the other. He looked over this view and relaxed. Lines of sky trams sailed over the canopy of the buffer area, ever constant, with a light rattle coming through now and again as each cabin passed over a particular tower. Sunlight poured down on the trees and woodland, and Kris turned a particular way, spotting the top of the tree that Ash lived in, far off in the distance. Turning back to the rainforest below, crowds were busy doing their thing. Flowing this way and that in chaotic order.

Sitting down on a soft mat, the silver fox unbuttoned his light blue pyjama top and placed it down beside him. His pyjama shorts were rolled up, and he began attending to his leg fur with a brush. He was already calm, but the sense of the repeating strokes made him more so. Working one leg methodically, and then the other, he crossed them lotus style before working on the top of his body. Arms, then torso, then around his head before going down his tail. All calm. All getting back in order. All soft and relaxed, Kris smiled as he placed down his brush and looked out over the commercial district.

Traffic went this way and that.

The sky trams rattle overhead, sending out a slow beat.

The odd songbird added to the tune, the lyrics to the backing track the city provided.

Everything calm.

Everything peaceful

Kris liked it like that.

He closed his eyes and let the few thoughts in him drift out completely. Though blind, he still knew what was going on out there. The rattling of awnings going up, mammals seeking cover and, on cue, the sound of the climate system’s sprinklers began, drumming rain rattling out.

The air felt clearer and cooler, and Kris smiled.

Music in his ears, he felt like he was calmly sitting at the banks of a river of time. Under a tree. Serene and happy, content to watch it flow by.

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* * *

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A second egg timer ran to its end and a paw hit the shower controls hard, shutting it off. Ash picked up one of the timers, turning it to five minutes, before placing it down again. Making sure the shower curtain was secure, he began vigorously shaking himself off, droplets of water tearing off his fur and landing all around him. It got most of the wetness out, but not the damp, and he felt a slight shiver already.

Out of the bath, over to the fur dryer. It was a personal hand-held device scaled for something like a lion or a larger wolf, but it had been very cheap secondhand and it did the job. In any case, it wasn’t like they had the space for a stand-in one. Making sure it was plugged in and grabbing the handles that they’d glued to its muzzle, Ash pulled back the fabric belt tied around the trigger and a rush of hot air was let rip, blasting up against the fur grain and down to his skin. He quickly got his wrists dried, placing his sweat bands back on as soon as he could, before he worked on the rest of his body. It was quickly dried down most of the way and, angling himself forwards, he let the blast of air push his fur down against his skin again. The last bits of moisture stuck it all back together before drying it out.

Off with the dryer, he grabbed an old hotel towel and used it to do the last bits of work before putting his boxers on again. A quick scan of everything and he pushed the remaining errant tufts of fur down as much as possible, before a single brush over quickly got it sort-of in line.

Brush down. Dryer back in its place. Ash gave himself a quick check in the mirror as the egg timer rang out again.

One side of his head was a bit bushy. Grabbing his comb, he made it wet before running it through a few times, solving the problem.

That just left an annoying puff of fur just below one of his elbows. Exiting the bathroom, picking his duvet up once more, Ash made his way back to his room, his face buried in his arm as he went. Tongue out, he gave the annoying bit of fur a good going over, even snaggling it with his teeth a few times, until it stayed put. Inside his room, duvet thrown back on his bed. Old boxers off and thrown into a drawer full of old clothes, he got out a new pair and put them on.

He grabbed some socks too. Most mammals went barepaw or, like Kris, chose to wear socks and shoes. Ash, meanwhile, liked the feel of socks on his feet, even more so than shoes, and so wore them often, even when outside. Coming home every day, his mother made him put his dirty pair into a bucket of water to soak them, helping to get the dirt out even before they went into the wash. Still, they were always stained. It didn’t matter to him, though; he liked his socks.

Out came a pair of white joggers which he pulled on, tucking them into the socks. Then a chequered shirt with a collar. It was a grey with white and cream stripes, and he buttoned it up on him. He smiled, admitting that it did look nice and his mother had a point in buying it when she took him out shopping. Finally, a grey sweatshirt with a hood, which covered all of the shirt bar the tops of the collar. He liked the hood as it hung behind him, sort of like a small cape.

All sorted out, he began to make his way back down again only to pause, gulping.

One of his sweatbands was gone.

Looking around, a slightly frantic look in his eyes, he spotted it on the floor near his door and, on inspecting it further, he noticed a little tear in it. It must have caught on the door handle. “Don’t do that,” Ash scolded, as he placed it firmly back on his wrist.

He felt a sense of smartness with his new clothes, but he also felt lazy. He still felt a slight drag of sleep, wanting to pull him back, along with a general apathy to the day ahead. He felt irritated, and a bit moody.

Nothing too far out of the ordinary.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath in, filling his lungs with air as Kris had taught him to. He let it slowly filter out of his nostrils, before he repeated the whole thing. “Sweet things in life are worth enjoying,” he parroted, “always go and enjoy them.” It was some of Dr Amy’s advice, and he followed it, going over to a fruit bowl on his desk and grabbing a kiwi fruit, slicing it open before digging into it with his teeth.

He liked kiwi.

Nice tasting fruit.

And it made him feel good as he ate it, exiting his room again and walking down the stairs.

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* * *

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Kris stood up as the rain ended before stretching out. Legs first, then his arms, wrapping them around the back of his head for some of his exercises. The stretching felt good, a mild warm glow where it pulled.

“Mind if I join you?”

Kris paused, before looking behind him and smiling. There, thin as a rake and with short, thin, dry fur, stood his father. There was a slightly aged look about his face, changed from the more learned one it had before his long illness. It filled Kris with a slight sense of melancholy, but that was pushed aside with happiness. He was with his father, and he loved that.

“Of course,” he said, and they took up positions together. Kris only had the last few stretches to do in his routine and his father copied him. The younger fox looked on as, even with a slight strain or worried flick of his ear, his father was still able to bend his body as far as he could before. Kris pushed further, feeling the endorphin burn and feeling good to know that they could do this together again.

They ended together before he stepped back inside. Some toast was put into the toaster, while a saucepan of water was already at the boil, Dr Silverfox adding two eggs into it. He then brought out some jars of jams and uncovered the butter, before setting the table. The younger fox, meanwhile, was busy on the balcony. There were planters full of berries there, and a number of plants growing up among the vines that covered the building wall. Kris, his pyjama top back on, was looking around, picking up all the newly ripe berries and filling a small bowl just as the sound of the toast being ready rung out. Four pieces, two of which his father quickly buttered.

“What jam do you feel like today?” he asked.

“I was thinking redcurrant,” Kris replied, as he came back in. “It’s a bit of a contrast from what was ready.” Placing the bowl down, it was mostly full of blackberries. There were a large number of strawberries that needed a few more days, and the same could be said for the raspberries. They’d had a lot of blueberries the day before, the poor bushes needing a bit of time to recover.

His father nodded, pushing the redcurrant jam over. He scanned around what was left for a little bit, before smiling. “Same reason I quite like the idea of some marmalade.”

The pair spread their jams over the two pieces of naked toast before the older one took the jars back to their place. He then pulled out the eggs with a large slotted spoon, blasted them under cold water for a second or two, before placing both in an egg holder. Over they came, Kris thanking his father and cracking off the top with a spoon. The inside was nice and runny, orange yolk dripping off the bit of crust Kris had torn off and dipped in. He savoured it, alongside the fruit, and the jam on toast.

He savoured it all, especially the fact that he was sharing it with his father.

That was something so very worth savouring.

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* * *

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“Morning guys,” Ash said, as he opened the door to the kitchen diner on the ground floor of his house. He paused slightly as he only saw his father, currently at the stove and hovering over a big pan, which was spitting and hissing intently. Great smells were coming from it, but he couldn’t help but notice that something was off. “Where’s Mum?”

“Well,” Mr Fox said. “Remember how she always comments about the meat I bring in from my jobs potentially not being that good?” he asked.

“Yes. And we ate a vegetable stew last night.”

“And so it wasn’t my meat that gave her her little stomach bug,” he pointed out, finger going up in the air. “It was her own vegetables.”

“Or the leftover gravy made from your meat that we used for it.”

Mr Fox shook his head a little as he brought the large frying pan he’d been using into the middle of the table, placing it down on a mat. There were some large eggs (maybe goose?), plus some large bug sausages, some smoked turkey bacon rashers and fried bread. Ash smiled, his mouth getting watery slightly as he licked his chops. This looked and smelled good!

“We’ll just plate you up,” he said, getting a spatula out and doing so. “And, just to remind everyone here, everyone had the gravy when it was fresh, and we’re all fine!”

Ash paid him no mind, instead thanking him for the food as it was dropped beneath him and taking a few deep sniffs. Out came his knife and fork, and he was soon digging right in. The dark and meaty, nutty flavoured, bug sausages soon got coated in warm yolk, and Ash eagerly began gobbling it all up. Stabbing bits with his fork, tearing with his knife. He’d poured some brown sauce onto his plate, and bits of that ended up staining the fur around his muzzle as he savagely devoured the hearty breakfast. “It’s really good,” he noted, through a full mouth.

Mr Fox, currently holding part of a sausage that he’d stabbed with his knife, smiled a bit. “Maybe I should do some more cooking.”

“It would be appreciated,” a third voice piped in, as Mrs Fox entered.

“You okay dear?”

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice authoritative, as she sat down, gaining the last of the food. “We’ll also need to teach you some healthier recipes,” she said, pointing down at the meal in front of her.

“Remind me, whose meal last sent someone bending over the toilet?”

Her eyes narrowed a little, her tail swishing a few times. “I did hear your conversation,” she said, before looking to Ash curiously. “How did you know it was the gravy in the stew?” she asked, curiously. “You weren’t there when I cooked it.”

This time, his eyes narrowed, before he rolled them. “It tasted like the gravy,” he muttered out, irritated at the patronising treatment. “Gravy was in the fridge before, and it was gone after. I kind of figured it out.”

The words fell harshly, and Mr and Mrs Fox looked at each other with a sudden sense of concern. The latter reached out, touching the shoulder of her son as he chewed vigorously, sending him flinching a bit.

“What!?”

She looked at him and sighed. “Ash,” she said, deep concern in her voice. “Are you okay?”

“Yes Mum,” he replied. “I’m fine, thank you.” He then turned back to his food, eager to continue.

“Are you sure?” his father asked.

“Yes…”

“Are you certain?” they both said, their voices rising slightly.

“I. Said. Yes,” he spelled out for them, turning to glare at both her and him.

She looked at him for a second and then sighed. “Sorry,” she said, looking away. “You just seemed grumpy and moody, and as you know we’re…”

“-Worried about me all the time as I tried to throw myself off a bridge,” he interrupted, before sighing. “I get it… Can I please just eat my food in peace.”

“If we can talk about this afterwards,” she said. “Sure.”

“Fine.”

“Thank you.”

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.

“I like how you handled that,” Mr Fox said, looking at his wife.

She nodded. “Guess he just wants to enjoy his food first.”

“I’m here you know.”

They looked at him for a few seconds, before he jumped off his chair and walked over to the bread bin, ready to hack a slice of bread off of the homemade loaf. It was a rough and ugly cut, producing a doorstop of a slice, and as he brought it off a few crumbs fell on the terracotta tiled floor. Sitting down again, he began mopping up the fat, oils and juices, before tearing off the saturated chunks of bread with his teeth.

“Anyone want orange juice?” Mr Fox asked, realising he’d forgotten it. His wife and son both nodded, so up he went, pulling the big bottle from the cupboard and pouring a bit into the bottom of three glasses. Blasting the tap water until it had cooled down, he filled them to the top, before planting the glasses at each of the table’s places. Both his wife and son thanked him, the latter immediately downing half of his drink in one long gulp. Felicity meanwhile, half of her first turkey rasher still hanging out of her mouth, turned to her husband, her ears pricked right up.

“This tastes… unique.”

He smiled. “Pepper and salt on the eggs, and I tried a bit of paprika and some chipotle chilli flakes fried in the fat.”

“It’s good, I…” She paused, sniffing and looking up at him. “You used goose fat for this instead of oil?”

“Finest goose fat from the finest geese,” he said, smiling. “Only the best for my family.” He leaned back in his chair, giving a wink, two whistles and two clicks of his tongue, in the way that made Ash’s ears flicker slightly.

She frowned, but then smiled. “You’ll be doing some more cooking,” she said. “But not before I teach you some healthier recipes,” she said, as she shovelled some more food precariously onto her fork.

“And I’ll be fantastic at them,” he said, smiling.

“I could be too…”

Mr and Mrs Fox both turned to Ash, who’d put his paw up as he piped up. He looked around a bit and shrugged. “What? Just saying.” He then stood up, clear and polished plate in paw, and walked it over to the sink, though not before giving a few last licks of his tongue to get some last bits of sauce.

Mr Fox looked at his wife. “Might be a good idea. You remember what Dr Lupuleli said about including him in? Making him feel important.”

She nodded back, before looking to her son. “I’ve got tonight sorted, but how about you cook for us tomorrow? I’ll guide you through.”

He looked at them, pausing, and shrugged. “Okay.” He then left them, walking upstairs again to wash his face and clean his teeth.

Mrs Fox looked to Mr Fox and sighed. “I didn’t get to talk to him.”

“I can do that now,” he replied.

“You know what’s up?”

“I think I do,” he said. “You were mothering him a bit too much.”

“I’m his mother,” she almost sassed back.

“I know,” he said. “I think he just felt a bit… patronised. That’s all.”

“You think?” she asked, slightly indignantly, an eyebrow raised as she looked at her husband.

“I…” he began, before looking away and sighing. “He feels like a stranger sometimes. It’s hard to know what’s going on. I’m concerned too you know.”

Her ears drooped badly, and she looked down, fussing the floor with her feet “I’m still worried that I’m getting things wrong,” she said. She paused, as she felt a pair of arms wrap over her shoulder.

“I do too, dear. I do too.”

“Go talk to him.”

“I will,” he replied with a nod, before heading up the stairs after him.

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* * *

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Fully dressed in some plain trousers and a light blue collared shirt, Kris finished his morning routine by brushing his teeth. He felt ready to meet the day ahead and, like always, was looking forward to it. He gathered up his books and files, placing them in a worn but well cared for bag. There weren’t many tags or items sewn into it, but those that were on there were important and special. That was what mattered for him. There was a common saying that foxes were sentimental. That they liked collecting things. Mementoes of certain times past, and of special memories. Kristofferson Silverfox was calm, he let the activities of the world float by him like a slow running river passing by his feet. But he was a fox. He was deeply sentimental. He rubbed some of the tags on his bag hard, before turning to a picture on his bedside table. It was him on his third birthday, snuggled up under the chin of a well built, deep red furred vixen.

Her name was Rosalind Silverfox.

She was his mother.

She died not long after that day from heart failure, brought on by undiagnosed high blood pressure.

He had but one memory of her. A bedtime routine. The night had been cold, snow falling deeply around. Peering out of the window, his night vision had let him watch the ships sailing up and down the Gulf of Saint Lawrence, amongst the ice drifts, as if they were the most magical things in the world.

His mother had stroked him, telling him it was time for bed, and he’d excitedly gone after the things he needed. A stuffed toy who he loved to snuggle, his fur brush, and a book. He’d placed them down in his bedroom and she carried him, fussing his ear, into the bathroom. She’d helped him clean his teeth, stepped out while he went to the toilet, before joining him in his bedroom. He remembered her letting him pick out a blue sleeper with snowflakes on it, before telling him how proud she was that he’d been getting through the night dry. He remembered being proud, feeling very mature, all the way back then, no matter how dumb it felt now. They’d read the book called ‘little foxes’ together and then she helped him undress before laying him over her lap. Brush in paw, but mostly using her tongue and teeth, she’d groomed him while kissing him and telling him that she loved him. He’d drifted off there, with her, and she’d then drifted out of his memory all together.

He'd been almost three then.

It was a few years later when what had happened really hit home. He’d known about his mother being gone, of course, and he’d known that there was someone dear missing from his life. He had known about death, in that censored way little kits did.

But it was as he held that picture of him and her, remembering that one precious little recollection that he had, that the full weight of the truth had collapsed onto him. He wasn’t much of a crier, then or now, but it had hurt, and he had come so very close to breaking down back then. Holding that picture to his heart, knowing with finality that he’d be without her forever and ever and ever, as his attempts to focus on something just ended up with him staring sadly at the floor on the verge of tears.

.

.

Kristofferson Silverfox was a sentimental mammal. Almost a decade later, he stood as he had done then, but looked at his mother’s image with a smile on his muzzle. He gently booped her nose with his own before turning back to his bag. Everything was in order, and he let his thumb pad drift over the Canidean flag that had been sewn on, over a tag of a snarling silver fox that was nearby, before letting it rest on a small metal badge, showing the Zootopian flag.

Pulling the bag up, he left his room, ready to go out for a new day. He paused, though, as he saw his father. He walked over to him, and held him tight in a hug, an act that was reciprocated.

“Have a good day,” his Dad said.

“I will,” Kris replied, as he exited the flat.

Dr William Silverfox smiled. Things were back in order. Things were fine. Things were good. It was 8 O’clock, and all was well in the world.

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* * *

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.

Washing his face, cleaning his teeth, Ash tidied himself up and exited the bathroom, only to see his father waiting in the lounge. “Hi,” he said smiling. “Mind if do a walk and talk with you?”

The younger fox paused, not sure what was going on, or why his father was acting different. Still, it was probably out of concern for him, so he chose to react warmly. “Sure.”

“Great,” he continued, “though on the stairs, it’ll be walking behind you. Or in front of you. Your call.”

Ash looked at him as he walked passed, before giving a little wave. Mr Fox followed, clearing his throat. “Do you like people telling you things you already know?”

“No,” he replied. “I already know them.”

“Right, and do you like people asking the same question over and over, even though you’ve already given the answer?”

“No.”

“You also don’t like it when mammals ask stupid questions that seem to belittle you?”

They reached Ash’s landing, and the younger fox turned to his father and shrugged before speaking. “No. Who does?”

There was a pause, and Mr Fox leant forwards, putting his paw on Ash’s shoulder. The young fox’s eyes slowly traced down to look at it, like it was a really odd thing, before he relaxed slightly. A tiny smile appeared on the end of his muzzle, and one of his paws went up to touch his father’s shoulder. “What’s this for?” he asked, a hint of happiness in his voice. However odd this bit of affection was, Ash was enjoying it. It was nice. It was good.

“I’m just wondering why you reacted badly to your mother trying to do the same thing?”

“Same thing…?“ he pondered, before trailing off. “You mean at the table?”

“Yeah.”

“I was busy eating. Your food was nice. I wanted to finish it.”

Mr Fox chuckled a little, before sighing. “Ash, I know that you know that we’re concerned for you. We deeply care for you, both before your…  _ -incident _ , and after. The thing is, we didn’t see what you were going through before, and we’re really trying, okay? We really are.”

He nodded. “I know. But could you maybe not ask so many dumb questions?”

“We, well…” Mr Fox began, before sighing. He turned around, sitting down on the steps, before gesturing for Ash to sit beside him. There was a slight pause, before the younger fox did so. A larger paw found its way around a smaller paw, and Mr Fox carried on. “Truth be told, neither of us know what’s going on in your mind. If you’re happy, sad, afraid, grumpy…” He turned to his son and their eyes met, and he felt his paternal fondness for Ash grow. He was his son. To stand by. To protect. To love. And love him he did, even if things got lost in translation. “Truth be told, I have no idea what’s going on in there,” he said, lightly tapping Ash’s head. “But we do worry, and we want to make absolutely sure that you’re okay. That you’re enjoying life. That we’re treating you right.”

“I am enjoying life,” he said, looking away. “I’ll… I’ll tell you if I’m not. I promise.”

“Please tell us whatever you feel,” Mr Fox said. “And if you’re angry with us, or just want to chain cuss…” He paused, smiling wide and happy as he heard a little guffaw come from his son. “How about you just come to us. Ask if it’s okay to offload. And then do so. Please, don’t bottle in any bad things anymore, okay?”

“Yeah,” Ash said. “Okay. That sounds fair.”

“And be kind to your mother, she does care for you,” he carried on. “She’s just looking out for you.”

“I know…” Ash replied, rolling his eyes as a hint of irritation returned to his voice.

“Okay. I’ll stop now,” Mr Fox said, standing up. He turned to go back downstairs, only to pause as Ash spoke out, looking out of his room.

“Just to let you know. I’m mainly grumpy as it’s the morning,” he said. “Mornings are dumb. They suck. I feel grumpy. If you’re going to poke me with a stick, try not to do it in the mornings? In the afternoon, I’d probably find it funny. Maybe… -You’re still poking me with a stick at the end of the day.”

“I’ll pass that on,” Mr Fox said, as Ash returned to his room. He smiled, before winking and giving two quick whistles and two quick clicks with his tongue. He’d talk with Felicity about this, and he had a good feeling that they’d be able to work something out.

Inside his room, meanwhile, Ash got his bag ready and left. He knew his parents meant well, but he didn’t like mornings, and could they just let him get past that? He still felt tired and grumpy, and that meant he just wanted to do the motions as painlessly as he could. He did love them. Once he woke up, he knew he’d think of them better, and he’d be happier around them. Enjoying being with them, and appreciating the time spent. He felt he’d feel good helping his mother cook, too.

Just avoid the mornings.

Mornings sucked. He wished there was a pill he could take to make them not do so, but scientists hadn’t found it yet.

Moving downstairs, he wandered through the kitchen, pausing as he saw his mother there. She turned to face him and smiled. “Have a good day.”

“Thanks,” he said, before looking away slightly and rubbing the side of his muzzle. “You too… -And sorry.”

“Thank you,” she said, and he smiled as he heard the relieved tone her voice took on. “In a mood?”

Part of him felt like barbing out, but he kept it under control. “It’s called ‘morning’” he said. “I just talked to Dad about all that stuff, and I need to go now.”

“Right then,” she replied, feeling better. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Sounds good,” he replied, walking out the door. “Have a good day.”

“You too dear!”

“I’ll try…”

.

He would.

He would try. He was always trying, mostly succeeding, and it felt good. It felt good…

A new cassette went in his walkmammal, and he pressed play to start the song. A light tapping came out, then the bass line and the drums. He carried on, walking over to one of the sheds, and he pulled out his bike and climbed on just as the first lyrics hit.

_ Well I… -Won’t back down… _

_ No, I won’t back down. _

_ You can stand me up against the gates of hell, _

_ but I… -won’t back down. _

His ears tilting back, he set off fast, racing down the drive.

_ No, I’ll… -stand my ground, _

_ Won’t be turned around, _

After that he’d go along a lane, and then onto a scenic walkway that took him up to the edge of Savannah central. From there, there was a path by the side of a drainage channel which would lead him to school.

_ And I’ll keep this world from dragging me down, _

_ Gonna, -stand my ground, _

_ -And I… -won’t back down… _

He felt good riding, the wind whipping into his fur. He felt great as he went down the hill his house was on, excited as the adrenaline pumped through him. Life was good, and, like usual, his morning blues were starting to fade fast, just as the song kicked off.

_ (I won’t back down…) Heeey… Baby, _

_ There ain’t no easy way out… _

_ (I won’t back down…) Hey… I will… stand… my… ground… _

_ And I… won’t back down… _

.

.

* * *

.

.

Stepping out of the station, Kris walked up towards his regular bus stand. There was always a little variance as to when it came and, if there was to be a least favourite part of his journey, then this would be it. Oddly enough, there were more mammals standing around than normal, though he guessed that was due to a line closure or something that he’d heard about, taking place on another part of the network.

More mammals joined him, most smaller, some larger, though he didn’t really mind. It didn’t take long for the bus to turn up and for mammals to start filing in. Swiping his transit card, he walked down, his balance adapting instantly to the motion of the vehicle as it set off. There were large seats of varying sizes, from massive to large, for larger mammals, with similarly diverse seating areas for smaller ones beneath, semi-caged in for safety. Some of the under-seating areas would be large enough for him, but they all seemed full. Looking around though, he did spot a larger seat that was available, if a bit large for him. Walking over, he placed his bag down before putting his paws on it, the seat about level with where his bellybutton was. Thankfully the protective cages for the mammals underneath also functioned as ladders of sorts, and he found it easy enough to climb up before pulling his bag up onto his lap and sitting down.

Right next to a hyena wearing a green jacket over his white shirt and red tie, alongside a pair black trousers.

That wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary, but Kris couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of deja vu. He couldn’t tell why, the hyena seemed fairly normal bar one unusual feature, a set of very noticeable snaggle teeth. Three of them in fact, sticking out from his lower jaw and pushing up, over and above his upper lip. The fox looked away politely, knowing it would be unfair to bring attention to it.

.

…

“Huh? Is that the Canidean flag?”

Kris’ ears rose sharply, and he turned to look at the hyena.

“Your bag,” he said. “The flag, you’re from Canidea, right?”

“Uh… -Yeah!” Kris replied, smiling happily. His tail wagged behind him a bit, and he showed off the tags on his bag, tapping the red paw flanked by two red stripes. “I moved over about eight months ago,” he said, happily. “From Prince Edward Island…” his paw moved over to the hockey playing silver fox, tapping at it.

The hyena nodded. “Hmmmm…. They have lots of silver foxes there, don’t they? Something like a colony that was set up by them or something?”

Kris thought back to his history lessons and the stories his father told proudly, his eyes lighting up. “It was more that a very large royal house settled there after being exiled, and prompted many of us to join them. There’s lots of foxes there regardless. I mean, ten percent of the population are silvers like me, ten percent other red fox morphs… Then you have the ten percent preds, with the rest prey.”

“That sounds nice,” the hyena said, almost a little wistfully, before he gave some light chuckles. “My species doesn’t really have a place like that to call our own. Not that I’d go there! I mean, I do quite like it here in Zootopia.”

“Me too,” Kris replied. He looked away, his mouth pulled to one side a little in thought. A small flash of sadness flowed through him, and he sighed. “But I do miss my old home.”

“I can imagine…” There was a pause, and a little laugh. “Though I’d probably be miserable, I hear it gets really cold there and all. Not my kind of climate!”

Kris paused, his slow flowing stream of thought briefly muddied. “If you’ve got decent fur, it’s not that bad,” he said, and he meant it. Sort of. Even now, he grew long winter fur which, combined with some decent winter clothing, kept you warm. He’d been to Tundra Town in the winter, which was colder, and he’d been okay…

Then again…

“I mean,” the hyena carried on, “I’ve just got over a nasty case of pneumonia. Don’t wanna go tempting fate....”

Kris froze, a sudden shiver of fear running through him. Memories flashed, a terrible chill spreading through the young fox’s body. His ears rung with the sadistic whip cracking ice. Of his father’s dreadful scream as he went under, and of his own yell as he threw down his fishing equipment and raced to help. He felt the ice burn on his paws and arms as he flung them into the scalding cold water, to try and drag his father out, all the while terrified of suffering the same fate. He remembered his father smothering and rolling himself in snow, as trained, to whisk away as much of the water as he could, to try and keep himself warm. But how could he be warm if the snow was so cold? The water was worse though, daggers and daggers of cold cutting into his arms in vengeance and fury before he did the same thing to them that his father did to his whole body. He’d shivered, gritting his teeth from the still terrible pain, as he and his father had gone back home. A hot bath had been run while they waited in the roaring fur dryer, even as they both shook and held in the tears, waiting to be able to immerse themselves and drive away the tyrannical chill…

That should have been the end of it, but it wasn’t over…

As then the coughing had started, and then the wheezing, and him calling the ambulance as his father began dying in front of him. How his guide and mentor, the mammal he loved more than any other, ended up as a living corpse in a hospital bed. Machines breathing for him, drug after drug poured in to fight the infection, which had waited for its chance to dive in and start tearing and destroying him from the inside out. Waging war and winning, his father and himself powerless to resist. He remembered his father rendered unable to move, struggling to speak, a stranger… And he remembered being afraid, and then sent away to family he’d never met before, to look after him until his father finally recovered.

Or forever, if…

If that haunting ghost of an image would be the last he ever saw of him. Just another memory, like that of his mother…

“-Hey. Kitto?”

Kris snapped out of it, looking up at the hyena.

“You feeling okay?”

“I,” Kris began, before he looked down at himself. He realised he’d been silent, staring off into the distance while his fur stood up on end. It had only been for a few seconds, but… “My father fell into a pond last winter, caught pneumonia. It took him months to recover,” he said, looking up at the hyena.

“-Uh… -Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” he stammered out. He took a breath in and out before looking away, paw on his face as he shook it. “Tchh… Here I was, feeling sorry for myself for being in a hospital for a week. I do hope he’s better.”

“Mostly,” Kris replied, feeling a bit better himself. “The whole accident was why I moved over to Zootopia in the first place, to be with family. My aunt and uncle looked after me, until my father was well enough to come over.”

“Aaawww,” the hyena cooed. “Well that’s just nice. I like a happy ending!”

“Yeah,” he said, a sense of relief in his voice. Everything was calming down again, easing out. He had his father back. Life was good. “-Anyway, I need to get off soon. But thank you for the chat. It was nice.”

“Oh… -uh, You too!” the Hyena replied.

.

.

Kris nodded, and then grabbed his bag and made his way to a door. It opened up, he jumped off, and then walked the last little bit. He saw his school up in front of him and, his ears perking up as he heard a ring, he saw Ash ride past on his bike. He’d taken his hoodie off and tied the arms around his upper body, so the rest of it flowed like a cape behind him. Catching up, Kris watched his cousin lock his bike in place and then turn to him, his mouth rhythmically panting as he cooled himself down.

“Morning,” Kris said with a smile.

“You… Too…” Ash said between pants, as they walked in together, ready to start the day.

.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**.**

**An: This chapter includes some big shout outs to some other fanfictions by some awesome people. Which ones? Well, you'll soon find out!**

.

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Woodland Grove High happened to be one of the more reputable schools in Zootopia. Maybe not the creme de la creme, but not one that any reasonable mammal would disparage. It served a northern segment of Savannah Central, alongside most of the hinterland between that district and the rainforest. Bordering said area, it had access to extensive playing fields, and happened to have a variety of well performing sports teams, the Whackbatt one chief among them. It was here that Ash Fox had been learning for close to three years, and Kris Silverfox for the best part of one.

Both of them entered their form room together, joining a bunch of other mammals who’d already arrived. Looking around, Ash spotted that the usual table that he sat at was free and quickly made his way over, Kris in tow. The room itself was a science lab, large, spacious, light and airy, and the pair sat down on a round table with gas taps and plugs set in the centre console. Adjusting their stools, both so they could get on in the first place and then so that they could reach the table, they looked at each other and nodded.

They had ten minutes.

Time for some very important discussions.

Ash emptied a folder out of his bag first, before pulling out some mind maps and rough sketches. Most of them featured little cartoons or basic abbreviations that would only be recognisable to those familiar with the pair’s published comic.

Two of those mammals was just arriving.

“Working on the grand finale?” one of them asked. A wolf, Remmy Packson. He jumped up straight onto his stool, letting it spin around a bit.

“The bit before the grand finale,” Ash clarified, rather proudly. “Which is even more important.”

“No it’s not,” the other new arrival, Remmy’s brother Remus, interrupted. “The big finale is the bit where everything goes nuts! Where we finally get the big battle!”

Remmy agreed. “You two get to do another of your big fight scenes,” he said, relaxing back a bit. “And you know how awesome they are.”

“We haven’t got to this fight scene yet,” Kris noted, looking over his notes. “I had a few ideas though, about how it could play out. How it could go down.” He paused, smiling. “I was reading this translated book of eastern legends a while back, and a few of them gave me ideas which could be unique. Some fit quite nicely with what we’ve set up.”

“Cool”, another voice added. The four predators looked over to see three other mammals moving over. One was a Scottish wildcat, Mitch Dewclaw; one was a sheep, Maisy Calrama, and the last was a wombat, Jenny Bourke. It had been Jenny who spoke, and she leaned over and looked in, only for Ash to protectively gather up his notes. “No spoilers,” he warned, before Jenny backed off.

“Yeah,” Mitch said, chuckling as he looked over. “I don’t want to know what happens to my character.”

“Speak for yourself,” Maisy replied, giving the small feline a dismissive pat on the head, eliciting a growl.

Kris looked at both and shrugged. “To be honest, we’re still working out the details,” he replied. It was a half-truth. Ash would often shoot out bold ideas, some hitting, some not, while Kris came up with the longer and deeper context. They’d work together to fuse their ideas and bring something about from it. They had many potential plans for the finale, which was still a few months away from the hand in date for the magazine they published to. They just needed to mash it all together, the aim of today’s work.

“Listen, my character is going to be fine,” Mitch assuaged. “At the end of the story, he’ll fight on the side of the hero association, for truth and justice, no matter what!”

Ash gave Kris a look, and Kris gave Ash one. This would be good. They’d included various characters based off or conceived by their friends. Come the ending, there’d be a ‘little bit’ of a disagreement, and the wildcat had just confirmed which side he’d be on.

“How do you know your character will be okay?” Maisy queried.

“He just will be,” Mitch boasted, before turning to the two foxes. “Anyway, you’d better get going with that finale.”

“Pre-finale,” Ash clarified.

“Right. Whatever. Get that done so we can get to the good bit!”

Ash’s ears went back a bit. “I’ll spend my time on it. I think I prefer the bits before and after the big fight to the big fight.”

“But why?”

The red fox shrugged. “You get everything winding up beforehand, all while waiting for it to get going. Then you get everyone picking up the pieces after. I like seeing those bits.”

“Which was why I was thinking,” Kris began, holding his paw up as he spoke to his cousin. “We try a tragic structure for the finale arc.”

“Tragic structure?”

Kris nodded. “It’s…” He began, about to describe it as the plot structure Sheepshear used for many of his works, such as  _ Romeo and Juliet _ , and which would allow the things Ash liked to be fully integrated, only to be interrupted by a smooth yet arrogant voice.

“The perfect description of you. Isn’t it, eyelashes!”

Ash’s ears folded down, and he turned to glance at a thick set woodchuck who’d just arrived. “Shut up, Beavis,” he scolded, turning back to the table and hoping he’d go away.

He didn’t.

“Oh boo-hoo,” he mocked, paws on his hip. “That crying is just your oestrogen shot talking.”

Kris looked at him harshly. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“Yes it does! He’s a girly wimp, and he’s finally decided to turn into one, but the girly stuff he sticks in himself is making him moody like a girl! Isn’t that right, eyelashes?”

The red fox in question closed his eyes, breathed in, and slowly let it out through his nose. He held his index finger claws against his thumb pad, just as Kris had taught him, and tried to let it all go over his head.

“Didn’t you hear? Or is it your…”

He was cut off as a red paw touched onto his shoulder, making him pause. There were six preds in this form: the two fox cousins, a third fox, the two wolf brothers and Mitch. There was also the prefect, a certain red fox in her last year who helped out with this form, and she was not happy.

“Uh… -Hi Brittany… I totally wasn’t insulting foxes.”

“What about a fox, singular?” Kris asked.

“Uhhh… Arguably, Ash isn’t…”

“Gah…” the older vixen cursed slightly, as she glared at him. “Just leave him alone. It’s not funny.” He nodded, before walking off, Brittany still glaring at him. “Grrrrrr…. He needs to be taught a lesson,” she muttered, her ears going down as she saw the form tutor arrive. “Maybe it would have been better to wait just a bit, and…”

“No worries,” Ash replied, looking at her and smiling a bit. While they were both red foxes, they both had odd things going on with their fur. He had his eye markings and she had flowing blonde hair. It was an odd, unspoken and undiscussed, kinship, but he felt it.

“Thanks,” she sighed, before glancing back at him. “But I’d love to catch that jerk red pawed.” She paused, and then looked over at the pair. “How’s the comic going?”

“Very well thanks,” Kris replied. “You’ll be having a good go in the finale.”

“Sounds awesome,” she replied, a big grin on her face. “My sister loves it when the comic comes in,” she chuckled. “Loves that her big sister is a superhero. Takes the comics to show and tell and everything!”

“Happy to know she’s a fan,” Kris replied.

“Nice,” Ash added.

Brittany nodded, before pausing. “You’re all here, I better get going,” she said, before heading off to count off another table.

They didn’t have much time left, so Kris and Ash packed up, ready to head off to their first lesson. “I’d never take a hormone shot,” the latter grumbled, before shivering. “ _ -hate needles… _ ” As they finished up, their form tutor spoke up.

“We’ll be having a full school assembly in the fourth period,” he said, the students pausing, looking at him in confusion. “I’m not at liberty to say what it’s about yet, but form period will be present as usual after, and it’ll be open for any discussions you want about the topic in question.”

The mammals at the tables looked at each other in confusion, various rumours spinning around about what it might be for. Neither Ash or Kris knew, and they didn’t have a chance to discuss as they went off to their separate maths lessons.

They could only wonder.

.

.

.

.

Kris found himself in math’s set one. The highest of the five streams, and one of the two that taught advanced maths. He enjoyed the lesson, given that most things came rather easily to him. Instructions were being given on quadratic equations, in particular the route of the square method. Described in detail, he understood it well enough, and was soon given a list of formulas up on the board to work through. Pencil to paper, they fell one after the other and, by the end of the lesson all were done with some time to spare. He thought, briefly, about asking for their homework assignment early, so that he might make a start.

He decided against it though.

No-one else would ask, and it felt quite odd to do so, so he set his pencil down and relaxed.

Waited.

Calmly let the last few minutes tick away as the teacher finished taking questions and then handed out answers. He’d made a silly error on one question, but no biggy.

Soon, the class winded down, the teacher handed out some textbook questions as homework, and off Kris went.

.

.

Ash, meanwhile, worked hard through his maths lesson. He was near the top of the class, which he enjoyed, though he was only in set three. That meant he was one of the highest students in his year who didn’t do advanced maths. He’d started the year in set two, which did do the extra work, but it had been a bit too much for him.

Regardless, he preferred being a big fish in a small pond, and it wasn’t as if he’d actually  _ use _ differentiation and all that stuff taught higher up.

On that day in particular, he was studying some exercises with compasses. Using them to help with geometric shapes, such as letting him draw a perfectly perpendicular line through another, or finding the centre of a triangle.

It was a fun lesson, though the teacher confessed as much, saying that it was a highlight of the curriculum.

There was also some feedback on some previous homework. Algebra equations.

He’d found them a bit challenging, with some he’d ended up guessing at after skipping around this way and that. But he’d managed them eventually, and found to his pleasant surprise that he’d got fifteen out of twenty.

Not too bad.

He’d then left that lesson for the next. Rather than the full hour, it would just be thirty minutes, and he wondered again what this sudden assembly could be for. Often, with the whole school ones, given on Mondays and Fridays, he got the sense that the staff struggled to find something to fill the time, yet now they had something big.

This whole thing was very strange.

.

.

.

.

Religious studies was still taken with the whole form group together, so Kris and Ash found themselves sitting together again. They also happened to have the third and final fox in their class on their table too.

“Morning Agnes,” Kris said, smiling as the pretty spotted vixen sat down next to him. Her fur was a light, dusty, almost straw like orange, and fawn like spots dappled the bridge of her muzzle.

“Morning Kris”, she replied back, greeting him with a smile as she turned to him. She paused, looking past the silver fox, to the vulpine on his other side. “Hi Ash.”

“Hi,” he replied back, slightly coldly. He wasn’t uncivil to her, they’d worked together on school projects recently, but still… He’d always felt a bit salty, no matter how many other times mammals brought out the ‘you’re better off without her’ line.

Her ears folded back a bit and she looked back to Kris, who smiled. She smiled back.

Ash ignored them, bringing out his book as he got ready for the next lesson, only for his chair to jolt slightly as a mammal sat next to him, completing the row of four. Looking over, he groaned as he saw the new arrival.

“Enjoying the love birds?” Beavis asked, a happy look on his face as he ribbed Ash slightly. The red fox closed his eyes, tilting his muzzle open as he took in a deep breath. “-Enjoying the sound of love in the air…”

“At least a mammal happily dated me once upon a time,” he muttered, before glaring at the chipmunk. “That’s a better record than you have.”

Beavis paused for a second, before his face winced up into a rage and his paw darted for his ruler, only to freeze as the door opened. The teacher had arrived and everyone, even Beavis, knew not to mess with him. There was the fact that he was an African Elephant bull to start with, the deputy head second, but what really sold it was his presence. You felt it when he was in a room, and any thought of mischief was always second guessed. He was an old school teacher, with old school lessons and an old school attitude to troublemakers. Something that Ash felt very grateful for indeed.

The class stood up for him, before sitting down again as he gave them a quick nod. His trunk pulled out a table projector and a large pack of acetate sheets, each carefully detailed with artwork. He looked to the class and spoke. “Given the change in routine today, I’ll be rushing through this lesson. No discussions. Questions and answers will be brief. Make notes. Pay attention.”

A number of mammals in the class nodded, while all of them prepped their pens to note down details. The teacher meanwhile pulled out one of the sheets and placed it on the projector. The artwork was painted onto the whiteboard, with a variety of different components being shown. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“We’ve been following the spread of Islamb so far, including the taking of the holy lands in the crusades. The big prize after this though was Constantinople. Not a religious target, as the holy land was, but rather one of pure strategic, status and wealth value.” He paused, checking that notes were being taken, before carrying on. “Much resistance came to their northward expansion though. From the crusaders, from the Byzantine Empire, alongside a small and notable people. A specific race of hares.”

His trunk reached out and pointed at a set of sandstone rock spires, drawn onto the bottom of the projection, and with intricate buildings built in. “During my travels in Pawasian minor, I spent a while in Cappadocia. It’s a region near impenetrable to attackers, criss-crossed with sharp sandstone spires and mazes of valleys. Houses are built into the rock, and the mammals live simple lives as herders, farmers and tradesmammals.” There was a pause, as he then pointed to a drawn picture of a group of hares in armour. “I also encountered many Owsla brigades,” he stated. “The standard encounter would see a group of these hares, about half a dozen usually, come up to me, ask me a few questions about what I was doing, and then send me on my way. It was quite worrying at first, being accosted by a group of kilted bunnies with assault rifles, and having them grill me quite severely. Never aggressively though. But very cautious, very wary, and, in discipline, very marshal.”

Ash kept on taking notes, not sure where this was going. Looking down, his brow furrowed as he saw that, as his paw travelled across the words he’d just written, they were smudging the ink. One of his ears gave an irritated flick, and he moved said paw down, to try and stop it from carrying on.

“-These were the Efrafan hares,” the teacher continued. “And, long before the development of modern recoilless rifles, they were proof that well equipped small mammals could match larger ones in combat. They were bred as a warrior slave race thousands of years ago, before rebelling and becoming their own people under Woundwort the first, back in the time of Alexander the Great. A warrior race, ex-slaves, it is therefore understandable that they have a lingering caution about outsiders.”

He paused, checking that notes were being taken, before carrying on. “While closely allied with the Byzantine empire, they had free reign to pursue their own faith. This is the subject for today, though we’ll only go into it briefly. The same way we covered Shinto during our talk on Buddhism. The Lapine faith, split between the Efrafans and the Lapino’s, is likely one of the oldest ones still present. Kept alive by the warrior culture of the original people, though embraced to a greater extent by the Lapino breakaway group. Most importantly, it has no connection to the ‘Shepherd’ faiths. No link to Abraham, Isaac or Ishmael, or the holy city.”

He moved his trunk, pointing at a sun up at the top of the projection. “Like many old religions, they believe in a sun god. Although, in reality, describing their lord as such is a gross simplification. They call him Frith, which does translate to and shares the same name as the sun. Imagery depicting him usually just depicts him as the sun as well, and there is no other visual representation. If you remember the representations of the Christian god as a burning bush, then you have an idea as to the relationship. They are monotheistic as such and, while they don’t have a prophet, they have an origin story for the world.”

Ash looked up, as the teacher’s trunk pointed to a drawn cave drawing of a running rabbit. Just a shadow, or silhouette, but ragged and fast even so. A glance over, and he rolled his eyes, seeing that Kris was sketching down the images as well, able to do reasonable copies even in a rush. A glance the other way showed Beavis doing a crude cartoon of a dead bunny, annotated with the words ‘dumb.’

“In my travels,” the teacher continued, gesturing back to the drawings, “I remember that a bell and a scream would often go off. The hares would run for cover and, as is natural,” he carried on, a smile on his face. “I thought it was a good idea to seek it too.” He paused, going over to a whiteboard and drawing a crude elephant. “There was a problem though, in that the largest residences tended to be for camels.” He drew a camel sized house and pointed to it and himself, noting the slight geometry issue. There were a couple of chuckles from the class, before he grabbed his pen again. “Another problem was that, even if I did squeeze in, the place was already taken.” He then drew a whole bunch of bunny figures inside the house, drawing new chuckles. “Though even getting there was an issue.” He then drew a whole bunch of bunnies crowding around himself, bringing more laughter. “I got used to it after the third time…”

Ash cackled out, trying to stifle his laugh. He recovered, as did everyone else, as the lecture continued.

“That bell was a warning signal for non-sentient birds of prey or reptiles,” he explained. “In the past, there were also the conquering armies, and, before that, the savage mammalian predators of the ancient ages.” Ash ignored a heavy nudge from Beavis, and carried on listening. “The world was dangerous for them, so it fitted into their origin story,” he explained, walking back to his projection and pointing at the rabbit drawing again. “El-ahrairah, prince of a thousand enemies. If you remember the Garden of Eden story, mammal-kind lived in bliss before they ate the apple of truth, becoming aware of their and the worlds true nature. In the Efrafan stories, the prince ignored Frith’s requests to stop siring so many offspring, and in return leant the mammals and animals of the world the means to hunt and kill them.” There was a pause. “In return though, the prince gained foresight, and swift legs and keen ears to detect and run from prey. Suffice to say with the Efrafans, they turned that advice on its head.”

A map was included, showing Pawasia Minor, and the teacher gestured to Byzantium, up in the top left. “The church was a master at bringing smaller religions into its fold. Unlike with Hinduism where your god, including Christ himself when St Thomas preached on the sub-continent, became a god themselves, or at least an aspect of the true god, the church incorporated older pagan gods as patron saints. There is no saint El-ahrairah. The Efrafans fought off invaders from north and south and, to this day, have one of the largest of the last remaining species specific religions. Their safety was forever granted after their forces assisted the old empire against the joint Ottoman and Cossack invasion. According to stories and history, a young Efrafan Ostrich herder proved decisive in forcing the great Horse Lord Gabrielli the Thunderer to turn back.”

There was a pause.

A glance up at the time. Not long left.

“There is a notable difference between the two branches of the faith, Lapino and Efrafan” he continued. “Both believe in an angel of death in the form of a black rabbit. ‘Inle-Ra’. Who takes the dead forwards to the next life. In Lapino communities, he or she is the only agent of this. The more martial Efrafan’s though believe in something else.” He turned back to his drawings on the board.

“As I said, wild predatory birds are still a blight. More so in past times when arrows were less common than modern guns are today. Many older religions included a demon in the form of a predatory bird. A hawk. An owl. A falcon or buzzard. Many traditional faiths, on the islands of Hokkaido, Sakhalin, the Kurils and the Aleutians especially, still include such a creature as the core part of their stories. Similarly, on our continent, many tribes, especially those further west, believe in malicious bird-like spirits in a variety of forms. For instance, the Ursine Wabanki tribe consider owls bad omens. Most faiths did at some point, though it’s faded as did the danger.

In Efrafa, they have Keehar, a silent bird of prey, said to have terrible glowing eyes, who’d pick up unworthy, dishonourable and cowardly souls in his talons. On my journeys, particularly foul mammals would often have a curse whispered at them. ‘May Kehaar take you’. It is said that the terrible king, Woundwort the fifth, was preyed upon by Kehaar. In the legends, an agent of El-ahrairah, remembered only as 'the barrel maker', used his wiles to take the king’s fortune with naught but his crooked herding staff. Kehaar, with his terrible eyes, was seen following.”

There was a pause, as the teacher brought out a new acetate. Placing it down, an open top tower was revealed, once more drawn in. “Woundwort did fall into ruin. There was a civil war after, followed by a golden age led by Hazel-rah the great. We haven't covered Zooastrianism, indeed there are innumerable species specific legends we’ll also never be able to do, for instance the vulpine legend of the nameless fox and firekeeping. But followers of that old faith don’t bury or burn their dead. They perform sky burial,” he said, pointing at the tower. “Birds pick the bodies clean, including wild vultures. I’m sure you’re aware of the tamed versions, which some small mammals fly, albeit far less than tamed geese or swan. Vultures are huge creatures, evolved as the ultimate scavengers, something that almost led to their extinction when we evolved and started funeral rites. Indeed, it’s one of the few cases where there are more sentient birds of this type than non-sentient. In any case, these towers support much of the remaining wild population, and aren’t that far away from Efrafa.” He paused, looking at the class. “They’re bigger than anything the Efrafans might have seen and maybe they learned about that civil war. It was probably rather beneficial for them.”

He paused, checking the clock.

“Class dismissed. We have the assembly, so everyone into the sports hall.”

The quiet room erupted into a cacophony of noise as bags were packed and chairs shifted. Ash had a slight shock when he remembered just who he’d been sat next to, given the relative lack of him being a nuisance. Or sniffing powdered candy…

Still, he thought it best to go with Kris and Agnes. His curiosity was reignited once again about just what this assembly was about.

.

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.

.

Kris and Agnes walked together as they crossed the playing area to get to the sports hall. It was a nice day, and he enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his skin, and the touch of her paw in his.

“I hope it won’t be something bad,” she said idly, as they joined the queue to enter. Kris looked at her and held her paw just a bit tighter. He’d have liked to have said that it wouldn’t be, but he had the feeling that it would be. So, instead, he said something different.

“Whatever it is, we’ll be okay.”

“Sure?”

“Probably,” he replied, mulling over his words a little. “But rest assured, I feel pretty confident.”

They quietened down as they entered their spots in the hall and sat down. Agnes was by his side, holding his paw, while Ash sat on his other one,  _ sans _ contact. The rest of the school filed in, a low din of chatter and feet on the floor ringing out, until everyone was seated. The chatter carried on for a moment or two until the headmistress, a bespectacled springbok, walked up to the podium, the student body quietening down to a stifling silence.

“Good morning,” she said, clearing her throat slightly. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why you’re here, and what is the cause of this unusual change in routine.” There was a pause. A sad look down. A sigh. “I want to stress first and foremost that no-one is at risk at the moment and, ideally, no-one ever will be. Still, as is the policy of not only this school but the city government, we must all be prepared for that eventuality. All schools will currently be having briefings about this, before the news breaks to the public at large… It was done this way so you could prepare yourselves for news which, I have no doubt, will cause a lot of worry for many.”

Kris looked to the two mammals at his side, both of them glancing at him as if for help or clarification. Ash gave a confused shrug, evidently as perplexed by this beating about the bush as Kris was. The silver fox just looked back to the front, the two others alongside him, as the headmistress carried on. Her voice was unsteady, filled with trepidation, as if trying to feel its way safely across thin ice.

“Yesterday morning, a team of ZPD mammals discovered that a large number of items were switched with fakes, the real ones stolen. The items… taken… were the bulbs to the plant that the Nighthowler serum is created from.”

A collective gasp rung around the room, heads turning to face each other with worried looks. Kris felt a stinging jab of pain, his teeth gritting slightly in response, and, looking down at Agnes, he saw her clasping his paw with a vice like grip, as if holding on for dear life. Her mouth was open and trembling, and she choked back a sob, and then another.

Others were unable to do so. Kris heard cries, and tears, and mammals just breaking down. Glancing behind him, he saw Brittany, her teeth bared and her paw pinching the bridge of her muzzle, kick her heel into the ground a few times in anger.

Ash, sitting next to him, had his head bent down and his eyes closed. His body trembled as he took in the odd steadying breath. Kris could recognise the calming technique that he’d taught his older cousin, and he saw it playing out in front of him, just about holding the red fox together.

He wasn’t sure if he should comfort him or just leave him be.

To be honest, he didn’t know what to think.

Naturally, he’d heard about the Night Howler Crisis. He and his father had looked on with worried eyes at what was happening in the city on the other side of the continent, discussing just what it might be or how best to respond. They’d discussed different diseases, or whether it might have been some new chemical in the environment. After some debate, they’d decided that it was most likely some new contaminant in a pred-only food source. Then, just as quickly as it had started, the whole thing was revealed as a terrible conspiracy against predators.

He’d been concerned, certainly.

Had Ash’s family chosen to, they would have been able to move over and stay with them, instead of the reverse occurring not that long after.

But…

But it had always been a distant thing of interest and, even now, that’s what it felt like.

He wasn’t appearing calm as he was holding it in, or keeping himself under control, but because he was calm. He didn’t fear these Night Howlers. If anything, to him, the whole affair with the assembly seemed terribly overblown…

-Yet mammals around him, who’d actually lived through it all, were crying, or breaking up, or shocked or scared or just trying to keep it all together. Agnes had her head in her paws, sniffing as the odd tear dripped down between her fingers and, after checking to confirm that Ash seemed okay, he moved over to nudge up against her. “Don’t worry,” he told her. “We’ll get through this. It’ll all be okay… It’ll all be fine. Just close your eyes… Deep breath… Calm…”

She followed his instructions and her panic slowly subsided. Many other mammals were going through the same thing, the teachers waiting for them all to take in the news. Finally, as everything calmed down, the headmistress began speaking again.

“What we went through two years ago was tough on each and every one one of us,” she said, looking around. “However, there is no doubt that it affected the predator population worst of all. I can see from here that many of those who are most afraid are members of said type and, thus, I wish to reassure you. This is not like last time. Many of us fell into the trap of making it harder for you all, manipulated by fear but ultimately culpable. The usage of these stolen plants is, as of yet, undetermined. If it is to be used for regressing mammals to savages, then we must be aware that it may be predator, prey, or both who are targeted. Any predator specific insults or bullying, or for that matter similar actions against our sheep students, will not be tolerated.”

There was a pause. She adjusted her glasses. She carried on.

“We will have to be vigilant though. In this assembly, we’ll be going over updated savage mammal procedures, with drills scheduled for the near future. For the rest of this assembly we'll be covering what to do, how to act, how to stay safe. Afterwards, we’ll have form period in which you can ask questions and seek advice. Thank you.”

.

Kris watched on as the rest of the assembly progressed. Apparently, under Dawn Bellwether, all schools had been fitted with a secondary alarm system for savage predators. Linked to the police HQ, green alarms had been deployed, a picture of a red eyed wolf baring teeth on each. All part of her plan. After the truth was revealed, the offensive illustrations were naturally removed, the alarms were powered down, and the police link cut. However, the alarm systems and their sirens stayed in place. They had been deemed cheaper to leave in-situ and potentially useful in the future. Something that had turned out to be sadly true.

Kris also learned about the savage mammal drill. Paws around your neck, look around to identify if your room was safe, if so barricade yourself in and if not run. The teacher should be able to hold him or her back, before trapping them inside a room, all while you found your own ones. If they turned in the open or broke out, then split up. Better one mammal fall alone than many die together. If being chased, find the toilets and lock yourself in.

There was advice on, if caught by a savage, how to defend yourself. Aim for the eyes. Aim for the nether regions. Get a paw around the arms if you could, same for the mouth. Hold tight and scream ‘HELP’. Remember that your attacker is a victim, who can be cured, but if it comes to it it’s better them than you.

It was all cold, clinical, and Kris sat through it all. The assembly was then over, and they all walked out in silence.

.

.

Back into their form room, and the same fear and silence still remained. Their tutor stated that he was ready to take some questions and give advice, a noticeable look given over to the ‘predator table’. Its residents paid little care to the invitation, instead just sticking with each other. They were preds, he was prey, and there was an unspoken agreement that he just wouldn’t be able to quite get it.

Instead, it was Brittany who came over, sitting down and looking over the group. “You guys hanging up alright?”

“No…” Agnes choked out, bending down and shaking her head. “I… I… I thought it was over!”

“It’s not like last time,” one of the Packson brothers stated loudly, the other one nodding in agreement.

“For all we know it’s gonna be preds turning sheep savage this time,” Mitch tried to joke, though only he laughed.

“I think elephants,” Ash noted. He was looking down at his paws, his fingers fussing about, the odd one stroking across his sweat bands here and there.

…

“-What!?” he suddenly asked, a sudden anger in his voice. “Can any of you think of anything worse than a savage elephant!?”

“Woah,” Brittany replied, backing off a bit, her paws up. She looked down to the side, a little chuckle popping out of her mouth. “We’re all a bit wound up and all…”

They all sighed and nodded, bar one. Brittany looked at him and paused. “You doing okay there, Kris?”

“Yes. Just fine,” he said with a shrug.

The prefect paused, a hint of worry creeping into her voice. “Are you absolutely sure about…”

“-He is,” Ash butted in, his tail giving a little irritated flick while one of his ears twitched about. “He just said so.”

The silver fox nodded, before giving a shrug. “I lived two countries away when the first scare happened. Honestly, I don’t feel any of this stuff. It all seems odd to me, like everyone is overreacting or going crazy, and I’m just fine.”

“Oh, I…” Brittany began, before nodding. “Well, if any of you want to talk…” She put her paw up, nodded, before leaving the table. As she did so, Mitch almost immediately turned to Kris.

“I should have known that that was why you were so calm.”

“I thought it was just normal Kris,” Remus joked.

“If Mr Calm is worried, then you know you’re in deep cuss,” Remmy added, bringing a welcome chuckle to the group. There was a pause, and then the silver fox spoke out.

“Was it really that bad?”

…

“That drill,” Agnes began, pausing to sniff. “It was originally just about how to deal with savage preds… If the alarm went off, all of us preds had to go into a corner of the room, away from the prey mammals. We… We had to lie on our backs on the floor… So if one of us turned, they… -they could deal with us…”

She trailed off into a set of sniffs, Kris going over to hold her tight. She held him back, as Ash spoke up. Tears had formed in his eyes too, and though he didn’t cry, instead just sitting there and staring ahead, his voice was tinged with sadness. “I kept on thinking. Could this be the day it happened here? Could it be me? You know…” he began, before turning down to rub both his sweatbands hard. “-I was scared by the end… Cussing scared, that it’d happen, and I’d…”

“I think there were two schools where a mammal was turned,” Remus said. “One was a teacher, one was a student. Both were restrained quickly, but…”

…

Ash shook his head, a thin growl escaping. “They wanted to bring fox-rep into the schools. Each teacher having some! Tasers too! Beavis kept on boasting how all preds, ‘and Ash’, should be nuzz… - _ muzzled _ …. And be put in chains, and how he should get his own fox rep or bear spray or ‘racoon B-gone’ or whichever dumbcuss jerk spray they wanted. Kept on telling me, he’d see if it would burn my ‘eyelashes’ off…”

Ash trailed off, then turned to Brittany.

“I got called out, some friend groups dumped me,” she said. She’d returned without any of them noticing and she wasn’t happy, her tail swishing behind her with an angry vigour. “My Dad was so scared by the end he was starting to hoard food. Got us all some spray too, ‘just in case’.” There was a pause, as a growl grew inside her, her face wincing up. “-Gah!!! That stupid, speciesist… dumb… -short-runt sheep!” she almost shouted. “I hate her.”

“I really don’t like her either,” Ash grumbled, gaining a chorus of agreements all around. “-And now some absolute cuss of a mammal has to go and put us through it all again.”

“I know,” Brittany agreed. “I hope he slips up and savages himself!”

Her tail swished around a few times in irritation, before she glanced at the clock. “Almost break. I… I think I’ll be in the library. So go there if anyone, you know…”

“Thanks,” Mitch said, the others following. She left, and the group were alone again. Kris, who’d been silent throughout, just thought about what he’d heard. The fear, the self-doubt, the rage afterwards. He hadn’t been here for the Night Howler Crisis, and though he understood now how much it meant to these mammals, he also knew that he couldn’t ever understand what it was like. How it felt to be a mammal living that kind of life, rather than one who studied the whole thing from afar. He was calm and relaxed as normal, he knew that he was still safe and would be fine and happy. However, he also now knew that he was lucky.

He sighed. “Well, I guess thanks for the heads up on all of that. I’ll try to be there for you, as much as I can.”

There was a little laugh from Ash, but then he and the others nodded. It was time to leave for break, so they all stood up to leave, the red fox grabbing his things and waving at his cousin to join him. Kris came, and immediately spoke. “You okay?”

“Fine,” he said, rubbing one of his wrist bands as he did so.

Kris glanced down at it and was about to speak, only to stop himself. “Good to hear, though I’m fine listening to whatever you want to say. Want to work on the comic some more?”

He nodded, and they set out together, only for the silver fox to get a light tap on his shoulder.

Agnes.

“Actually,” she began. “-Could you give me a paw with some of my maths?”

Kris paused. Like him, she did the advanced maths, though she was lower down in set two. He wanted to help, maybe be there for her if she needed some help. Then again, the same could be said for his cousin, who he’d agreed to be with first. He glanced back at Ash, and found his answer as he rolled his eyes and waved his paw at them, signalling for them to go.

“Thanks,” he said. “We’ll carry on work after lunch. Sounds good?”

“Sure, whatever,” Ash replied, waving them away a bit more vigorously. The pair left for the library, while the smaller tod made his own way out. He felt a bit irritated, and a whole load of more complex things if asked about the whole night howler thing. Then again, he told himself as he looked down at his wrists, life was good.

He would get through this.

In any case, he remembered, a grin growing on his muzzle, he knew the awesome mammals who helped end crisis number one on a first name basis.

Everything really was going to be just fine.

He knew it.

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**AN: You may have noticed some obvious referencing in that last chapter. The whole lesson on the faith of Frith is inspired by Ubernoner’s awesome ** ** _Sons of Efrafa_ ** ** series. Go check it out. A little easter egg was also put in, referencing Ubermunchkin’s ** ** _Strength of a Bear_ ** **, also set in the SOE AU.**

**And, of course, I couldn’t not make a reference to Variable Mammals/ Kittah’s Fic ** ** _Familiar Fire_ ** **, and my fan sequel to it, where Brittany is the main character. Before you ask, the boys aren’t writing ** ** _Fam Fire_ ** **! They’re doing something completely different.**

**Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I put a lot of work into them, so dropping a comment (even a little one) is always super appreciated and puts a big smile on my face. Thanks, and looking forwards to next time..**

  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

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Break for Kris was a simple affair. He sat next to Agnes at one of the hexagonal tables in the library as they worked through her problem areas slowly but surely. He was fine with that, able to concentrate and give out helpful advice. Agnes tried to follow it bit by bit but every now and again she’d get distracted. Looking down, or up at the ceiling, or just phasing out before snapping back to the present with a surprised ‘huh!’

His ears drooped on the third time, and he followed her gaze to see a little green alarm unit, tucked away in a corner next to the standard fire alarm.

He sighed, before reaching down with a paw to hold hers.

She flinched a little, before looking back at him, a faint smile on her face.

.

.

Meanwhile, Ash walked along the edge of the playground, just relaxing on his own. He had his own feelings about the scare, feelings he liked to mull over by himself. They weren’t so much about the risks, he was confident that the bad guys would be defeated. It was more about who those bad guys where. What they were doing. Why?

_ “Why not get two for the price of one. Two for the price of one? Come on, I’m just giving them away here!” _

Ash’s ears perked up, and he followed the new sound to its origin, or at least as close as he could get to it. Looking through the fence, he saw a thin and wiry weasel, a plus sign shaped bandage on his forehead, trying his best to hawk off a table full of goods. By the looks of it there were video games, fancy rucksacks and branded sporting accessories, such as refillable water bottles.

And they were all rubbish. Ash knew this, having encountered some poor fellow students whose work had been ruined by a leaky bottle. They’d dropped their bag down in their locker or in a corner while heading off to lunch, the bottle had split right down a seam on the side and flooded out, and they’d returned to see the horror. Remembering it all, he frowned with irritation. One of his ears twitched a bit and he banged on the fence, getting the mustelid’s attention.

“Want anything?” He asked, scurrying over. “I’m happy to help those who still have to stay inside, like you. Not a problem. Money?” He paused, smiling. “Well there’s holes in this fence, ain’t there.”

Ash frowned. “There’s junk on your table.”

“You mean other mammals treasure,” the weasel said, his face scowling up like an ageing fruit.

“Until it breaks and they learn it’s junk.”

The weasel huffed, an irritated look on his face. He leant in, looking the fox in the eyes. “I’m just a mammal trying hard to make a livin', an' get myself back on my own two paws. Don’t hassle me until you’ve had a go at it, kit!”

“What happened to take you off those paws?”

Freezing slightly, the mustelid let his teeth bare ever so slightly. “I got hassled by some idiots who thought I’d stolen something from ‘em. There. You’re being mean to a charity case now. Happy!?”

“Did you steal from them?”

…

“They didn’t find nothing!”

Ash frowned. “I heard a good delay there and some overcompensation. More importantly, I didn’t hear a no. I'll take that as a very long yes.”

“Listen now! I don’t got a lot after my encounter with them. But I do have all this, and I’m just trying to do some honest business to get back on my two paws again. So, if you want to belittle me, then skadoosh…”

Ash looked on at him and shook his head. “I don’t want to see you fleecing other students,” he warned, before turning away. There wasn't really anything he could do, so he instead headed off to his locker. He didn’t use it for stashing books; like most students he just took everything home with him. Instead, he had a stash of sweets and stuff and, after opening a biscuit tin, he slid a few jammy dodgers into his mouth before shutting it all up again. Checking the time, it was still a bit early to go to the next lesson, but as it was art he could set himself up there and do a few more storyboards for his comic.

That sounded good.

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.

The two foxes met again in the art class, their form all together for it, before they picked up on their assignments for the day. The room itself was in one of the older buildings on the edge of the school site, more specifically a large brick barn that had been converted for use rather than being demolished. Their studio was in the roof space, long and narrow and with windows on both sides, making it both light and cosy. All sorts of random items were present, from old musical instruments to bits of teaching skeletons, while various bits of art hung on the wall. This meant that, when asked to pick something and ‘do something with it’, there was a lot to choose from.

Usually the mood during such a thing would be joyous, but today it was far quieter. Many students were using it as an opportunity to just calm down after the worrying news from the assembly. Kris, though he felt a tinge of guilt about it, almost preferred it that way. More peaceful, more relaxing, just him with a pencil and a sketchpad. He’d chosen a bronze-colored, blocky, battery-powered mantle clock for his first sketch. Two deer bucks in soldiers’ uniforms stood to attention either side of it, their fur and clothing richly detailed. The silver fox observed it closely, before pencil went over paper. Quickly glancing up and down, he got the silhouette done, before breaking out a rubber. One of the tines was just a little bit off. Fixing it, he then began working on the basic facial features, while also filling in some of the fur. On he went, quietly and methodically, until his ears twitched with the sound of someone behind him.

“If you don’t take art as an option all the way up to the top, I’ll forever be disappointed in you,” came the joking voice of his art teacher.

“I’ve got it down,” Kris said with a smile, “and I very much intend to.”

“Good,” the art teacher said, before stepping around, just to have a closer look at it. He shook his head as he did so. “It’s remarkable. I’ve got mammals in their last year, doing art, in line for solid grades. Yet you, you can match them. It really does just come naturally to you, doesn’t it?”

He shrugged. “I mean, I just see things and my paws follow the instructions I give them. Same reason why I’m good at sport.”

The teacher nodded. “Those could be surgeons’ paws, right there.”

There was a chuckle. “Thank you, sir.”

“You know…” he carried on, before pausing. “I don’t think I’ve told the class this yet, but art is why we have the A-star grade. You see, a mammal could create a piece of great work that fully achieves the targets set for it. That’s you’re A. Then, another one can come with a work that is simply better. By a long shot. Given how many of those top grades I give you, I think you can tell where this is going.”

“I do.”

The teacher nodded. “Carry on,” he said, before pausing. “-Also, I’ve been catching your comic.”

Kris nodded. “Ash’s and my comic.”

“Of course,” the teacher said, nodding slowly. “You know, I’m surprised that you two decided to join together. When I first pointed him to those competitions, I was expecting something wild and out there, whereas you would do something much more intricate.”

The silver fox paused, wondering whether to tell him the truth. That his own acceptance to the comic magazine resulted in Ash’s work, which he’d put his heart and soul into, getting booted off. That it had been the heavy straw that had broken the camel’s back, boiling him over, and so nearly making him end it all. Not that many mammals even knew about ‘the Incident’.

“-though, to be honest, you two do a good job,” the teacher continued, thankfully unaware. “I see your work, and your detail, as the main thing that pops up. But I keep on seeing these fun bits of Ash’s experimental side, and his old style, breaking through.”

“All the thought and dream sequences,” Kris said proudly. “The flashbacks and stuff.”

“Pretty much wherever you have one of your art style changes. And I must say, having different ones for different ‘states’ is excellent. You know, -I really enjoyed that one time when you had the character passed out, and his inner monologue used the wispy dream style! Then slowly morphing back into the normal style as he recovered. It really helped the reader understand what was going on, though I’d better compliment Ash for that.”

The silver fox paused, thinking back. “Ash wanted to try out all these different styles, but I encouraged him to limit them to make things more coherent. We settled on different styles for different ‘states’, like you said, but it was his idea to play a bit loose with the rules sometimes.”

“Indeed,” the teacher said, his eyebrows raising as he took note.

“By the way…” Kris pondered, a sudden curiosity coming over him. “What do you think of Ash’s work?”

“Well,” he began. “For a start, I’d be equally disappointed if he chose not to carry on art. For the next two years at least. As for his style…” he trailed off, before looking over.

Across the room from him was the red fox in question, listening on to his Walkmammal as he worked. Unlike the rest of the class, who’d mainly picked pencils with a few pastels and paints thrown in there, he had a whole host of items and materials around him. The subject of his piece was a paw held fan, nothing special by itself. But he’d drawn its frame, and a jagged paw that held it, in solid black ink. There were crooks in the bits of wood, giving it an almost broken look, while the paw looked like something climbing out of the earth in a black and white comic book. Compared to that, though, the bits of fabric that made up the fan itself were a literal rainbow. From red acrylic paint at the top, to light blue tissue paper collage further down, he was making them all as different as they could be. Currently, he was rubbing a yellow highlighter against one of his finger pads, before pressing it down, literally finger painting in senior school. In contrast, every other mammal was trying a like for like recreation of their item.

Nodding and looking back at Kris, the teacher smiled. “In terms of fidelity, you come out fully on top, no contest. But your cousin, he tries things, sometimes great things and sometimes things that fall flat. Maybe it doesn’t get rewarded as much, but it’s something I deeply respect.”

The silver fox took it in with deep interest, already knowing what must be done. “I’d tell him that,” he said, looking over. “Tell him everything. It’ll mean so much to him.”

The teacher nodded. “I’ll do that right now.”

So he did as Kris returned to his sketch. Making sure his pencils were sharp and accurate, he did the fine details around the eyes, even using a rubber to help create little sparks of light in the formerly dead pupils. He glanced over to where his cousin stood and saw the teacher there, talking to him.

The red fox’s tail was wagging vigorously, and Kris smiled as he returned to his work.

.

.

Breaking up for lunch, both foxes went their separate ways. Kris went into the queue for the main canteen, even though his year had a lower priority today. He was happy to wait though. Ash, meanwhile, made his way to the hot snacks bar to pick up a chicken wrap. There was the option of adding some salads and such, but he ignored them, just adding some barbeque sauce and then paying. He scarfed and wolfed it down in less than a minute, with Kris having to wait for five more minutes to enter the canteen and get his tray. Picking out some plain oat cookies for dessert, he then had a look at the predator option that was on, a bug lasagne. Perfectly good for him, particularly with a side of chips and some peas and sweetcorn as well. There were some large bowls of prepared salad-stuff, and he helped himself to a nice helping of coleslaw, alongside a shredded beetroot and chickpea salad. He waved to the till lady, an older and quite eccentric vixen, before he settled down, alongside Agnes. He brought some water cups and they ate together, engaging in frequent small talk.

After that, he left to meet up with Ash again. As he walked, though, he thought he heard something and followed the sound to investigate. Behind one of the buildings, Beavis was singing to a small bunch of mammals. Kris wondered if this was a more sensitive side to the distasteful bully, but that idea quickly sunk as he heard the lyric content.

“ _ Weeellllllll….. Sheep are evil, very very evil,  _

_ they’re the biggest evil in the whole wide world _ ,

_ The ewes are evil and rams are evil, _

_ And lambs are evil to the boys and girls. _

_ On Monday they hate preds, _

_ On Tuesday the hate preds, _

_ On Wednesday to Saturday, they hate preds, _

_ Then on Sunday, just to be different,  _

_ They hate preds and prey and extra double preds!” _

Kris shook his head and walked away. That chipmunk wasn’t worth the effort, and he had better things to do.

.

At the same time, Ash wandered over to where he’d seen the weasel before, sighing as he saw him still at it. Worse, Brittany, who liked to eat her lunch offsite, was passing him. She gave his offers a firm no, but still he persisted, visibly aggravating her. Ash's phone came out, ready to record everything, but at that point the weasel gave up, returning to his stand.

Ash put it away, before noticing something odd. The weasel was looking around, worried, sniffing the air. Then, in a sudden rush of frantic activity, he packed everything up as fast as he could before hauling everything up a tree.

Seconds later, a cop came around the corner.

Not just any cop, though.

“Hey there!” Nick shouted, a giant grin suddenly growing on his face. He jogged forward so he was right up next to the younger fox, before leaning against the fence and giving him a great big grin. “How’s it hanging, Mr…” he said, before spitting on the floor.

“Good! Very good,” Ash replied, eagerly. He smiled. He was in a good mood ever since the unexpected pep talk from his art teacher. Still, though, there was that other thing…

“You okay?” Nick asked, his voice suddenly sounding a bit concerned, just as Ash realised that he was beginning to feel very down.

He sighed, paw on his forehead and scratching slightly. “I’m not sure,” he began, taking it slow. “I said I was good, I had some very good lessons. But… -but is it true that night howlers are back?”

The older fox looked at him sadly. “I investigated the theft,” he said, honestly. “We don’t know what’s being done with them, but some  _ have _ been taken. But! I promise that we’re doing everything we can to stop whichever bad mammal is planning something.”

Ash smiled. “Well, you’re on the job, so we’ll get there.”

“We will!” Nick said proudly, before pausing. “Say,” he said, as his paws went out. Ash saw him sign the words for ‘ _ stay quiet’ _ . The younger fox nodded. “Did you know that my mother works at this school?” ‘ _ Looking for a weasel _ .’

“Oh!” Ash replied, suddenly interested on multiple fronts. He smiled. “Is she the slightly wild one who runs the lunch till?” ‘ _ Third… -Acorn-tree from left’ _

”Ah! You know her!” Nick replied happily, chuckling a bit. “And yes, Wilde on multiple fronts!”

As he spoke, he wandered backwards, before his face quickly darted towards the tree in question. Looking up, he saw a hole in the trunk and brought out his radio. “Judy, I think I’ve found where our M-O-I is holed up,” he said, as he grabbed a pinecone and tossed it in. It bounced back out, albeit much slower than before. 

The fox frowned. 

“Duke! We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Come on now. You’re not in trouble, we just want to do a bit of questioning… Wesselton…”

“It’s Weas…” came a shout, suddenly cut off hallway through. Nick looked to Ash and winked, and he did the same to Judy as she arrived, pointing up at the hiding hole. Then his nose twitched a few times, and a darker look began growing on his face.

“Was he doing anything?” she asked, looking at Ash.

“Selling knockoff junk.”

“That’s not all,” Nick warned, his face scowling before he glanced at Ash. “The wind carried it away from you, but I’ve just smelled a whiff of alcohol.”

“-You got nothing! No proof I did anything even if I do have that stuff on me! The dumb kit didn’t see nothing!”

Nick frowned, shaking his head as he tutted. “Now, now, Duke! I quite like that kit, and he’s clever enough to secretly tell me where you were. Anyway, I can smell the alcohol now. Smells like industrial stuff. Let me guess, selling little shots that you can mix with pawpsi and then sell to school kids. Oh dear me…”

“If your stupid nose is so good,” the weasel shouted, popping out of his hole as he did so. “Then why did you need a kit as a witness!? Why didn’t you just use that sniffer to track me down?”

He shrugged. “I just wanted visual confirmation from a friend. My nose could easily track any mammal down. Especially one with such a distinct and notable odour such as your own.”

…

“I’m still not coming out,” he grumbled, as Judy stepped up, an unimpressed look etched onto her face.

“I’ve just asked for back up. Officer Pennington will soon be on her way and she’ll get you out, so I strongly advise you to just give up now. We have probable cause, and evidence if you have all the right pieces present. We can then interview the pupils, leading to a guilty charge and jail time given your record. If you help us with our questions, we can get a plea deal for the alcohol thing, and then you’re only looking at community service. The more helpful you are, the shorter that can be. Or are you going to be your usual charming self?”

“Ooooh,” Nick commented, as he looked over at her. “That’s the ‘I’ve had just about enough of this’ look. Remember the last two times you saw that? Wasn’t pretty for you, was it?”

Duke gave an irritated growl, before flinging his arms out. “Fine then!” he hissed.

There was some cussing and cursing as he got out of his hole, Nick and Judy taking up positions around the tree to make sure he didn’t make a run for it. Coming down, Judy cuffed herself to him while Nick examined the base of the tree, finding some of his larger wares. He tutted, looking up to his partner. “Just look at this,” he said, holding up a water bottle, showing off the distinctive crack in it. “At least I had standards in my hustling days.” A quick rummage around found the alcohol and, glancing back down at Weaselton, he shook his head. “Let’s get this over with, Duke!”

“Shut up!” he shouted, seething. He looked up at Nick and Judy, then over at Ash. “I’ll get my own back on you bunch. Just you wait.”

“Still a sore loser, I see,” Nick noted, watching him getting led off. He paused, before glancing back to the watching student. “Thanks for the help, Mr…” He spat on the floor, earning a slight roll of the eyes and an eager smile from Ash.

“No problem. It was kind of fun.”

“Good to hear,” he said back, giving a playful salute. “And don’t worry about Duke’s threats.”

“I won’t. He seems embarrassingly useless.”

“Yeah… That about sums him up,” Nick replied, before heading off, giving Ash a quick wave as he went. “See you around! Loving the socks!”

“You too! Thanks!” Ash said, as he watched Nick go.

…

That was fun.

He turned back, though, ready to meet up with Kris in the art room again. Their comic needed working on, after all.

.

.

Meeting up with Kris, the pair brainstormed where the final arc would go. They knew the basics, and the outline. The main characters would discover a certain conspiracy, find out that two ostracised characters were on the side or right, and try to break the story only to find themselves caught in an all-out brawl. Each had scenes that they wanted to fit in, and plans for certain characters, and it was a back and forth to try and map out where best to have everything go.

By the end, they believed they’d got there, and together they packed up their things and head off back to the form room. Brittany was waiting, ready to do the count, while other classmates were coming back in. Kris, spotting Agnes, walked over to talk to her, leaving Ash waiting alone.

He looked around.

He paused, as he saw Maisy sitting alone, looking around nervously. He wondered for a few seconds, before slipping off his stool and walking over to her.

“Hey,” he said softly.

The sheep turned and yelped, flinching back a bit and looking around in panic. Ash, taken aback, put his paws out to try and calm her, but it only seemed to make her worse.

“I don’t know anything about this!” she shouted, standing up and glancing around in panic. “I know nothing! Just because I’m a sheep doesn’t mean I’m a bad mammal!”

“I wasn’t…”

“You can’t judge me for what she did!” she cried out, before turning and running. Ash looked on, stood still and utterly confused, as she raced out the door, barging past the form tutor as he went.

“What was that for?”

Again, Ash opened his mouth to speak only to be cut off, this time by Beavis. “Sir. Ash told her that she’s a dirty speciesist sheep, and deserves to be in jail with Bellwether like the rest of them.”

“I DIDN’T!”

“Yes, you did! Stop lying, you…”

“He didn’t, sir,” Brittany said out loud, walking up to defend the younger fox. “I think he just went over to comfort her and she reacted badly… She was taking the whole news very hard.”

The form tutor looked between them, then at Beavis. “Absolute last warning.”

“But.. -come on sir. She’s a fox! He’s a fox! They’re ganging up. Sticking for each other! It’s what their species does!”

The teacher’s eyes narrowed. “That’s your break and lunchtime tomorrow spent with me then.”

“What! That’s not fair! I’m just telling the truth!”

Brittany walked up to him, a mixture of anger and supreme satisfaction etched across her muzzle. “Two days ago, you said that us foxes would sell each other out for a dollar. If you’re gonna be specist, at least keep your story straight.”

He looked around, trying to garner sympathy but finding none. Finally, he turned to the teacher. “Come on. Who are you really going to believe, huh?”

…

“Them,” the teacher said loudly. “And you can stay after school tomorrow too.”

Beavis’ mouth gaped wide open, but he finally seemed to get the message and shut up. He trudged off, Ash smiling a little as he heard him sniff slightly. Not long after, everyone was packing up and heading to their afternoon lessons. The first one happened to be just across the hall.

.

.

“-And so,” the physics teacher, a bespectacled ocelot explained. “The current travelling through the wires induces a circular magnetic field.” She drew rings around the two circles, with arrows in them to show the flow of the magnetic force. “On its own, not useful. But, if aligned, the two magnetic fields in the centre are flowing the same way.” She then held up a sheet of paper, covering the wires, and just showing the flowing field lines. “In effect, creating something equivalent to a standard bar magnet.”

She then explained how, by adding bar magnets to the sides, an electric motor could be created. That would be the task for today. First, though, she brought out a large electric wire and asked if one of the foxes in the room could volunteer. Kris felt fine letting others have the first shot, and both Ash and Agnes were interested, with the latter getting chosen. She stood up at the front of the class, as the teacher spoke out. “Some mammals have a sense of magnetism. Often, this may be in the form of a subtle feeling, such as balance is, and can be observed when they tend to lie or arrange their beds to face a certain way. Ask them, and it just feels better. Foxes, though, are unique in that said magnetic sense, or rather the specific proteins that detect magnetism, are present in certain eye cells.” She paused, and looked at the vixen. “I believe, you can see a faint smudge, pointing down, in a certain direction,” she said.

Agnes nodded. “Yes Ma’am. That way.” She pointed into a corner of a room, downwards, to which the teacher nodded. “Magnetic north. It was this skill that made fox navigators so important in the maritime cultures of the old world. It can be still used today, with relevance to electric systems.”

Going back to a wire, the teacher flipped on a power supply and asked Agnes if she could work out which way the current was flowing. She looked above and below the wire, before shaking her head. “I think it’s still off.”

The teacher smiled and flicked on the plug. “How about now.”

Agnes repeated the experiment, before pausing as she slid her nose under the wire. “I see it now. Just this odd shadowy blur.”

“And which way is the current flowing?”

“Well, this is facing into the north…. So south is behind me. So…” She held out her right paw so that her fingers were coming down and under her wrist, pointing towards her, while her thumb stuck out to the side. “So, the current is going from right to left.”

The teacher nodded. “Well done.”

.

The rest of the lesson carried on. All groups got out a power supply and a small kit and, together, they had to build their own electric motor. By the end of the lesson, all had devices that were spinning away, and then it was time to pack up again and leave for the final class of the day.

It happened to be P.E. or, more specifically, swimming.

.

.

The locker room was crowded as mammals took off their clothes and stashed it all into the present lockers. Each student had their own pair of swim wear, and their own towel, with some still using goggles as well. They all filled out, eager to get started, eventually just leaving one left.

Ash.

He stood there, in just his trunks and sweat bands, as he leant against his locker and breathed in and out. It wasn’t that he didn’t like swimming, he quite enjoyed it, just…

Just…

“You okay?”

He turned, spotting Kris in the corner.

“I noticed you weren’t coming through. I thought you might be stuck on the toilet, or…” He trailed off, though, as he saw the small bits of fabric still around the red fox’s wrists. Looking away a little, he sighed, scratching the side of his muzzle. Most other mammals would tell Ash that they were just bits of dumb clothing, not important in the slightest, and he was being silly in not wanting to take them off. Others would just note that he was ‘different’, though after learning just how much he hated the label, Kris knew otherwise. He knew a lot about his older cousin, and so he did something completely different. He walked up to Ash and he held one of his paws.

Ash held back, tight, taking in a breath fast as he used his other paw to rub the wrist band hard, massaging it. Deep breath in, and he let go, tearing off both wrist bands like they were plasters and stashing them into his locker, sealing it shut before glancing at Kris. “Thanks,” he said, as the silver fox led him out. He tried to follow him but, after just a few steps, his eyes lowered to look at his paws.

His wrists.

The scars…

Below each paw, on both the top and bottom, the charcoal grey fur of those areas was riven with bare skin, dabbled, marked and clear to see even if he tried to brush over it. A thumb pad slid over, making its way through the lines of damage, and he felt the roughness beneath.

He’d done this.

To himself.

Because he could.

Because he was angry.

Because he snapped, and he wanted to end it, and it felt good to hurt himself then for some dumb reason which he couldn’t remember, yet could.

The whole sight of the things, which would last him his entire life, sent him remembering, and he never liked that. His wrist bands kept them covered up, out of sight and mind, where he wanted it all…

He had to take them off for showers and such at home. That was okay, for a little bit. But school or in public was a different matter. Just the thought of having mammals asking questions and him having to explain it all gave him a horrible twisting feeling in his stomach. The more explaining you had to do, the worse it got.

Always.

Still, he would get through this.

Into the pool room, he did stretches with everyone else, before being one of the first to get in. Paws went into the cool water, the damage blurring beneath the ripples. He watched on as the others came in, Kris the last among them. His feet went down the ladder and the first, hitting the water, flinched back up again. It slowly went down, dipping in, and was then carefully followed by the other. The silver fox’s ears pulled back, slick against the top of his body and, taking a deep breath in, he pushed himself the rest of the way. He then joined Ash, doing some little exercises beneath the water as he did so, before the rest of the lesson started.

.

By the end of it, Ash had remembered that Kris was a very good swimmer. Comparisons were hard between most pupils, given that some were far more adapted for swimming than others. But between the foxes, Kris, with his unusual front crawl, thrashed Ash and his equally unusually breast stroke. Most mammals stuck to a trusty paddle, with varying degrees of success. There was a feeling that the otter instructor, Coach Skip, tended to focus on those at the top rather than the bottom; so as long as they weren’t in trouble, the weaker swimmers were left to themselves.

Regardless, swim period was uneventful, and the pupils eventually got out of the pool, before making their way back to the changing rooms. It was the end of the school day and there was a buzzing energy in the air as the pupils looked forward to going home. First, though, showers and a quick fur dry. A whole line was gathering, ready to hop in. The showers were individual and had basic curtains, while there was a walk-through fur dryer right nearby. A queue was already forming for the former and, water dripping from them, the two foxes waited in line.

“Please hurry up,” Kris mumbled, as his cousin looked over to him. The silver fox was shivering a little, his paws rubbing up and down his forearms. It was a bit of an odd sight as far as Ash was concerned. Sure, he himself was cold and beginning to tremble. But Kris not being composed… -Then again, there were moments when he showed his more vulnerable side.

“Mind if you hold my place?” Kris asked suddenly, Ash nodding in return. The silver fox sped off into the toilets, locking the door, and the sound of him shaking himself off rang out.

Out he came again, still holding himself with his ears peeled down but looking a bit better. He carried on fidgeting until they got into the lukewarm showers, both of them shampooing their fur and washing it out, before giving themselves a little shake and heading off to the fur dryer.

They both paused as they spotted a crowd around it.

“It’s not working,” Kris said, a hint of nerves in his voice. “Is it?”

“The heater’s gone!” one of the students up ahead shouted. “Drys you off but freezes you too.”

Many students in line, Ash included, grumbled at the annoyance, only to pause as he heard what almost sounded like a whimper coming from Kris. His cousin was physically shivering right now, his breath getting just a little bit faster, and Ash realised that this wasn’t just the cold getting to him. There was something else there too. Something that was playing with his nerves.

Kris hurried back into the toilets, Ash behind him, and they both found cubicles in which they could shake off most of the wetness. Ash felt cold, certainly, but as he grabbed a bath towel and began drying himself out he began feeling warmer. 

He also heard Kris’ teeth chatter slightly as he vigorously dried himself off.

Ash frowned and, finishing off his drying, he changed his trunks for underwear and put on his sweatbands again.

Kris, meanwhile, kept on rubbing himself, trying to get the damp out of him. A faint breeze or a waft from a moving mammal would send a chill down his already cold fur, allowing it to claw in just a bit further. His normal calmness was replaced with a running unease, as he just had to get himself warm and dry.

His activities were suddenly halted as a towel landed right into his chest. Hard. He looked at it, he looked up, and he saw Ash in front of him, getting dressed. “If you’re cold, you can have that,” he said, and Kris sighed with relief. The new towel, though damp, went around his upper body as he finished drying his legs and got his trousers on. He then handed it back, finished off his top, and put his shirt on.

He still felt cold though. Still felt a faint tremble, and he grimaced at having to go all the way home like this.

Something soft hit him in the stomach and, looking down, he saw that it was Ash’s hoodie. “Bring it back tomorrow,” the older fox said, “and bring your own fleece next time.”

The worried tension in Kris’ body released itself blissfully and, relaxing, he smiled. “Thanks Ash,” he said, as he put the fleece on. It was too small for him, and tight, and there was a visible bit of his shirt sticking out the bottom. He looked stupid, but he didn’t care.

He felt warm again, and that was something much better for him, and a smile returned to his face as he heated up on the walk out to the bike shed, Ash getting his bike out while Kris kept an eye for the bus.

“I’ll remember,” he promised. “See you tomorrow.”

“You too,” Ash replied, before pausing. “I’ll do some storyboarding.”

“I’ll fill in some of the ones you’ve already sent me.”

…

“And thanks. Again. For the jumper.”

Ash rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome,” he said, as he pedalled off, both foxes going their separate ways for the rest of the day.

.

.

**AN: So, it looks like things are going on outside and in. But where will it lead? Is Duke actually involved? Will there be any surprises in store when Ash and Kris get home? Well, there’s one more chapter left following our two young fox’s day, and then the rest of the story in which to find out.**

**Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I put a lot of work into them, so dropping a comment (even a little one) is always super appreciated and puts a big smile on my face. Thanks, and looking forwards to next time...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

.

.

Pedaling hard, Ash hit the brakes of his bike as his house came into view. Wheels locking and sliding on the loose soil, he hoisted one leg over the seat, riding side saddle until he was slow enough to do a running leap onto the ground.

He slowed down, looking around, before he parked his bike into its shed, making sure it was locked up properly. Doing so, he couldn’t help but look around. This was the mechanics’ shop, containing his father’s motorcycle and sidecar, along with all sorts of other equipment. Farming stuff to help his mother’s allotments, basic air rifles to help with his father’s pest control, and some big freezers to store produce in. There was a distinctive tang of petrol in the air, while, looking down, he had to avoid a few splotches of motor oil.

Outside again, he walked right up to the door to the kitchen, peeling his socks off before he stepped in and threw them into a bucket of soapy water, a rule set by his mother. It was all about keeping her house clean and tidy, even though every other mammal would walk straight in with dirty pads. Even after they’d cleaned them, his pads were cleaner, thanks to those socks.

Warmer and cosier throughout the day too, yet he was the weird one.

Some things never really made sense, something that Ash mulled on as his stepped through the door. No-one was downstairs, so he walked up the staircase, approaching the lounge above. As he did so, he couldn’t help but hear his parents talking about something.

“-I know, it’s not the most opportune time,” his mother was saying, just a bit tense. There was a pause, as she breathed out to calm herself. “But what’s happened has happened, hasn’t it? And didn’t we just agree?”

“We did, dear,” his father said back. “And we’ll get through this.”

“You’re now making it sound like an ordeal,” she snarked.

“And it isn’t! I’m excited for the future and all, I couldn’t be happier in fact! Just now, with everything, and Ash too…”

“We’ll have to keep a close eye on him,” she said sadly.

“He’ll probably understand. He’ll probably be great! Just like us.”

“But you know what both those times did too…” she began, before pausing.

…

“Ash?”

His ears perked up, and he entered the room. His parents sat on a couch, turned to face each other, and his mother walked up and over. A paw went on his shoulder, and one around his back, and, though it was a bit sudden, he didn’t feel like batting her away this time. It felt like something to just let be. “Is this about the night howlers?” he asked. “I feel nervous but prepared. I can live through this.”

There was a warm chuckle from Mr Fox. “There you go,” he said, relaxing a bit. “I told you he’d be able to take it well.”

“It was just a good idea to check,” Mrs Fox reminded him, before her eyes narrowed. “Besides… Things might get worse before they get better.”

Ash’s ears dropped back down slightly on hearing that, and he looked up at her. “You think that more mammals than last time might be turned?”

“I… -We don’t know yet. Is your school doing anything about it?”

“We had a brief, we might be practicing some drills.”

She sighed sadly. “Better than nothing. But if you ever need help, or a pick me up, say an ice-cream. Just ask. Promise me that?”

“I…” he began, before pausing, a little smile coming on his muzzle. “If they do sorbet, then that sounds good. I’ll ask.”

“Thanks,” she said, before swooping down for a proper hug. Ash hugged her back, finding much more comfort and happiness in it than he expected. Maybe he’d grown out of these things by and large, maybe the number of times he’d get them in the future was limited, but for now he was enjoying this one. He sniffed in his mothers’ scent hard and he hugged her just a bit tighter, something in the smell wanting to make him hold and comfort her far more than usual. His tail wagged a little, before he let go.

“Anyway, Ash…” she began again, looking down into his eyes while a paw went over her stomach. “Your father and I have been talking.”

“Discussing things…”

“About a whole lot of stuff…”

“-Important stuff!”

“And…” she continued, before trailing off. She took a breath in and out, trying to speak but the words hanging on her mouth, before she gave a glance over to her husband.

“I think what your mother is trying to say, Ash,” he began, “is that you need one of those big sorbets! Bad things might be going on, and it might hit you hard, so we thought we’d lift you up beforehand!” He walked over, looking over his son with a confident smile on his face. “How about you help Kylie and I with a goose issue we’ve been contacted about.”

“Freddy…” Mrs Fox began, only to be cut off by Ash.

“Really!?”

“Yup.”

“I get to go on one of your missions,” he said. “You’re taking me on…”

“Exactly as I said! Big testing the waters and finding your feet thing, which should really perk those ears up!”

Ash looked on, his paws shaking ever so slightly with the sudden news. He took a breath in, composed himself, before speaking out sincerely. “That sounds very good, and I’d love to join you. Thanks,” he said, as he raised a finger. “Could you also spare me a minute or two?”

“Well how about three?” he asked, before giving his son a nod and watching him exit the lounge, walking upstairs. His wife immediately turned to face him, a slight glare on her face.

“I know we discussed that little matter, but I still don’t like how you pulled it on me,” she said, a bit harshly.

“He’ll be fine. He’ll be better than fine. You saw the look on his face. Do you know how happy he is?”

She opened her mouth to retort, only to be cut off from a shout from two floors above. “YAHOOO!!!!!! YEHHAAAAA!!!!!!!! YES! YES! YES!!!!!!! YEEEEESSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!! HA HAAAAAA!!!!!”

…

Mr Fox gave a quick double whistle, a wink, and two clicks of his tongue as his wife looked at him, her tail giving a few sassy flicks behind her as she did so.

“-Besides,” he continued. “You were dancing around the real issue, weren’t you?”

She sighed. “Sure. Fine. However, on this mission of yours, promise to keep him safe, and not to waste the chance either.”

“I won’t,” he said confidently, pausing as Ash returned down, a new pair of thick and cosy socks on his feet, and a White-Cape comic under his arm. “But for now, I think we’ve all had a hard day, so let’s relax.”

Mrs Fox, after a few seconds, did just that. “That actually sounds like a good idea of yours,” she said with a smile, as she joined her husband on a sofa.

“Honey, I’m happy to say it’s one of my all-time bests.”

.

.

* * *

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Returning home, Kris entered his flat and took off Ash’s jumper, stashing it in his bag so he wouldn’t forget it the next day. His father wasn’t home yet, he wouldn’t be for a while, so instead the younger fox set about getting things done. Though there was a lush warmth in the building, thanks to its location, he put on a larger jumper just for a little bit, letting him warm up. Then, opening his bag, he began scanning through the homework he had to do. Piece after piece after piece was then completed. From quick math’s work, to more complex essays that he planned, researched, and typed. In the science lessons, they’d just been asked to start including references, in most cases straight up links at the bottom which led to the site in question. However, his father had taught him how to properly cite sources a few years back. As a result, he saved his sources of information in a little bibliography on his word processor and dropped in the relevant links when he included the borrowed information. He didn’t need anything to help him focus; he just let what few distracting thoughts he had slip away to the side and sailed on regardless.

After an hour and a bit, everything was done, all up to the highest standard. Away it went in his bag and, checking the time, he saw that he had some time to work on the comics too. Out came Ash’s storyboards, along with a professional drawing kit, and Kris soon had the borders spaced out and done in with thick ink. Then came what was inside of them. Placing Ash’s work next to his own blank canvas, the silver fox soon had all the rough sketches transferred neatly across, a few corrections made here and there. Then came the embellishing. Using just his paw and a pencil, he let the world that had previously been held within their shared imagination come to life on paper. He was halfway done through the first sheet when a key rattled in the lock, his ears standing rigidly to attention as they heard it.

The door opened, and in came his father. “Afternoon!”

“Afternoon Dad,” he replied, standing up and walking over, and the two shared a loving hug. After all, for both of them, it felt so good to be back together again.

Breaking off, the older fox looked down at his son, his ears drooping just a little. “I presume you’ve heard the news.”

Kris nodded. “It didn’t bother me much, but everyone at school who lived through the first one was distressed and emotional, in one way or another.”

Dr Silverfox sighed, walking past his son and to a waiting electric steamer. “I feared as much, given what I saw at the University,” he said, as he put down a bag full of shopping, a distinctly fishy smell coming from it. “How is Ash?”

“Angry, annoyed, and a bit tetchy. I think he’ll be okay. But we all need to keep an eye on him.”

“Yes,” his father noted sadly, as he filled the bottom of the steamer with water and turned it on, starting the warm up. He then got out a plate, unwrapped a red mullet, and placed it on. “It reminds me of a conversation I had with your aunt. About him.”

“Oh, okay. That sounds interesting.”

“It was,” he agreed, as he got out some slices of pickled ginger and a mix of herbs, placing them on the fish or in its gutted belly. He then turned to wash his paws. “She ended up comparing you two to ice and fire.”

“I see where that comes from.”

He nodded in agreement before sighing. “He burns bright and thick and strong, but he flickers and can be put out. You’re solid, things slide off of you, you’re firm and steady. It’s also an apt way of describing your personalities.”

Kris smiled. “Sounds fairly accurate.”

“Mmmm-Hmmm,” his father hummed in agreement as he dried his paws, before getting out some baby potatoes and a few other vegetables. He began washing, peeling and cutting them. “But fire flickers, and it can be snuffed out, while it takes a lot of heat and effort to melt ice.” He paused, looking back at Kris. “It’s good that you two came to be friends, in the end… He needs them.”

“I’ll be there for him,” Kris said, smiling.

“I knew you always would be,” his father replied proudly. The vegetables ready, he fried them in a pan with butter and garlic for just a little bit before transferring them onto the same plate as the fish. The steamer was boiling away nicely now, so he put the plate in the top and set a timer for ten minutes while Kris began setting the table.

Soon, they enjoyed a meal together. Dipping bits of fish and vegetables into some sauces they’d got out on the side, savouring the taste. The father and son talked about what they’d worked on and what they’d learned, each one finding entertainment and education in the other’s stories.

It was a good time for both of them.

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* * *

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Mrs Fox set about reheating half of a thick meaty pie that they’d last had two nights ago. It was a cheap one, lots of vegetables such as peas and leeks along with some of their own chicken, all in a light sauce made from stock from the carcass and some cream. She’d seasoned it well, with plenty of salt, pepper, tarragon and even some horseradish, and it still tasted good when reheated. The crust, though made with margarine, was thick, soft, and buttery. Plentiful too, as she always made enough to go down the sides and under the bottom, rather than just doing a lid.

She’d also asked her son to help out, though tonight it was just peeling potatoes to make mash. He did so, then when told he cut them up and put them in boiling water. Then came draining them, putting in more of the margarine along with some mustard, before he mashed it all up.

Finally, all foxes agreed that a tin of baked beans would be a nice side dish. Opening it up, Mrs Fox turned on the gas and got the stove going. The tin open, she poured them in, stirring it all about as it heated up. Ash, on request, set out the table, Mr Fox arriving there and sitting down. She looked back at it all, smiling as she saw that her son seemed okay. The idea of him going out on his father’s ‘missions’ did raise her nerves a bit, they always did slightly when he was just going out by himself. She’d wish that he could just quit them, though, ultimately, she did know that they’d struggle without the meat and money it brought in. To quote her nephew, she had deeply mixed feelings about it all.

Not helped by the fact that she was once like him, wanting to live and hunt, only for it to come crashing down when she became responsible for another life. That, and on hearing that an ordinary day for an old friend had turned out to be his last. Those things had changed her. They hadn’t changed him though.

As she watched, her paw slowly relaxed and, before she knew it, it slipped. She hissed in pain as it glanced the flames, before she shook it clean.

“You okay dear?” he asked.

“Fine,” she replied, before frowning. A little ember still glowed on her fur. She touched it, to snuff it out, but it started glowing again. A second time, the same result. Her finger, still hurting just a bit from the slight burn, needed a bit of attention. So, as she asked Ask to get everything to the table, she went to the freezer and pulled out an ice cube. Touching it against the burn, it went damp and finally died, even if she had to use overkill to do so. She then tossed the bit of ice into the sink, where it smashed, and walked over to the meal. Everything was plated up and the family eagerly tore in.

Afterwards, after a bit of nagging, Ash went upstairs to do some homework. He had some stuff due tomorrow, some stuff in for the day after that, so he cleared those. There was an essay question for science, requiring some referencing, which he pushed through despite the boredom. Some music was on in the background, something that made it all easier for him, the tunes stopping his mind from wandering too far.

Eventually, all was done, and it was time to do something fun. He briefly went down to a little cupboard beneath his bed, fixed closed with a padlock. He thought about indulging in the stuff in there, but though he wanted to, he pushed himself away. He was trying to get away from it.

Instead, he went over to his comic notes, deciding to have a look through and storyboard where it was going next. He had some funky ideas, for instance doing a lot of chopping up of the timeline in a big fight scene, making things a bit different to build up to the giant reveal at the end.

He liked the idea of surprising the readers.

The whole set up of their comic was that the two main characters, Sech the Sage and Wessly Wiggler, were underappreciated workers at the Hero’s Association. The organisation ran many investigations similar to the police, had a military wing and took in super-powered children who had problems with their powers. They were beloved by the populace, and the readers, but they were secretly rotten to the core.

That had been Ash’s idea, that they’d slowly been expanding their power, building out, and the Association’s leader was corrupt. Kris had agreed that the bait-and-switch would be fun to do and had spent a week researching various real-life facist regimes. Noting down their speeches, their moves to gain power, and building up a powerful narrative where they took control.

Ash had liked it, but he also didn’t. It was well-done, well-worn, well-executed… It was a brilliant layout that hit all the high notes, there was no denying it. But he’d seen the story ten-thousand times and more and, on a guess, suggested they do a taking of power ‘like in China, or that doomsday cult near Bunnyburrow, or something...’

It had only been a shot in the dark, but Kris suggested that Ash could research it, and that he did. He poked around, read a book or two, and came up with his own plot. Kris enjoyed it, so he took it and embellished it, helping to fill in the gaps and really polishing it up to the highest standard. Pointing out new opportunities for symbolism, ways to improve character arcs, or set up foreshadowing, all turning a great idea into a brilliant one.

The public might say that they love the hero association, but how much of that was because they were scared of being turned against by everyone else for saying otherwise? Older heroes regularly had verbal abuse hurled at them, that they weren’t ‘good enough’ guys. They were often dragged in front of crowds, made to confess as to how they weren’t more of a hero, and how they’d used their powers for personal gain. Just wanting to use your powers for innocent self-benefit was something the leader, in his public speeches, had made almost as much of a social taboo as outright villainy. Many times, the mammals being harassed would confess to things they didn’t do to placate the mob, sometimes they’d end up believing it. Those that tried to argue were shut out, shouted down and discredited.

It would all be blowing into the open soon, when the heroes discovered the extent of the corruption. The fact that the Hero Association’s policies were making things such as the economy so much worse than it was in other places, the fact that innocent mammals had been framed for 'the greater good', and how some of the young students were blackmailed and manipulated with fear. Then, the whole cast that was built up would start splitting into sides, and the big show down would begin in earnest.

Ash had been looking forwards to getting that down for ages.

Music on, pencil in paw, his mind deep in thought.

He began in eagerly.

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* * *

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After finishing off the last of his comic work, Kris settled down with his father to watch a film. He’d been warming up to the point of feeling a pant coming on, so he stripped off his jumper and was back in a shirt. Together with his father, they watched the movie they’d picked out, a well renowned foreign language feature (as usual) which had been subtitled.

Together they enjoyed it. Afterwards, they talked about it.

Things were getting late.

Kris went into his own bathroom and turned the shower on, quickly washing himself in nice hot water. Then into the fur dryer, standing in it as it dried him out. Out again, in his pajamas, he sat with his father on the warm balcony as they practiced yoga and meditated.

Together they calmed down, reflected on the day behind them and exercised themselves.

Their muscles feeling well tested afterwards, they stood up. Kris gave his father one last hug, always a nice thing after their long time apart, before he retired to his bedroom. Slipping under his thin sheet, something he’d only recently gotten used to as compared to thicker duvets, he lay his head on a smaller pillow and wrapped his arms and legs around a larger one. The feeling was a perfect replacement for the normal thick and heavy weight that he’d previously slept under.

The lights were out.

The efforts and trials of the day caught up to him.

He drifted off to sleep.

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* * *

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In his house, after cleaning his teeth, Ash said goodnight to his parents, giving both a quick wave. He then hugged his mother for some unknown reason. Maybe he was growing out of his thick teenage angst? Whatever it was, he said goodnight to his parents and headed up into his room. Stripping down to his boxers, he turned off the light and, guided by his night vision, climbed up into his bed.

Things had happened that day.

Good things.

Bad things.

But things were good.

Bar the morning, he was looking forward to tomorrow. He was looking forward to the future.

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A flashlight turned on and Ash, sitting himself up in his bed, pulled out his copy of  _ White Cape _ . He still had a chapter to finish after all. 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: And there we go. A full day in the life of Ash Fox and Kristofferson Silverfox. It was certainly a very fun and gentle thing to write, and I hope you all enjoyed it. Dropping a comment (even a little one) is always super appreciated and puts a big smile on my face. As for next time…
> 
> We finally get around to properly introducing some characters who I’m certain you’ve all been looking forwards to. Subscribe to the series on Fanfic or here on A03, so you don’t miss out on FFoZ series 1, episode 4…
> 
> AGGRETOPIA (RAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!)

**Author's Note:**

> AN: The Aggretsuko one-shot IS coming... But I thought I'd throw you guys another bone, XD. Hang on in there!  
Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I put a lot of work into them, so dropping a comment (even a little one) is always super appreciated and puts a big smile on my face. Thanks, and looking forwards to next time.


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